A Memory of Rain
by Raven Ehtar
Summary: Shiori can't remember what she did over summer break. She just woke up one day on a train heading home. Amnesia would be bad enough, but the nightmares, the whispers on the edge of hearing, the rain that feels almost predatory... What happened to her during summer vacation? Post game, 'Vanished Promise' ending. Suga/Shiori. Rated for dark themes. Happy, fluffy ending!
1. Part I

_**A/N:**_ _So back in November I wrote this novel length piece of fanfiction for a fandom which was new to me, but which I had become fully obsessed with. It's taken a long time to get it smoothed out, beta'd and smoothed out again. About a year, actually. To anyone who's been waiting for updates to other fics, this project has been a major culprit in the delay - sorry - and production for those others should step up, now._

 _On the up side,_ _ **this**_ _fic is complete, and new chapters will be going up every Wednesday. There's fifteen parts all together, including an epilogue, so the last part will be going up two days before Christmas. You're welcome. :)_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part I

…

" _The worst feeling isn't being lonely. It's being forgotten by someone you could never forget."_  
~ Anonymous ~

…

Steam rose from the cup, curling in the cool air before spreading out and dissipating into the dark, heat and life lost to the empty shadows.

The gentle curve of porcelain was hot against his fingers, and Suga did his best to concentrate on that; on the heat that seeped from the tea into his flesh, the joints easing as the chill damp of the mansion was chased away. He focused his gaze on the swirling amber contained in thin walls of white, the dark shadow at the bottom of fine tea leaves that had escaped the strainer. Anything, anything to take his thoughts away from the darkness that was even now creeping in along the edges of his consciousness, waiting to poison his mind and his heart with oozing guilt.

It was silent in the mansion, echoingly quiet after sunset when he closed the doors to visitors. Not that the mansion turned museum of local history was ever overrun with visitors. At most Suga, who played manager and host, could expect one abrasive middle school student who visited nearly every day and perhaps a handful of people who were passing through town and curious. Azakawa Village was not a hub of tourist activity, and all of the locals save Sakuma Miyako, the middle school student, tended to avoid the place if they could.

That was partly his own fault, he knew. As the manager and only employee of the museum it was his job to make guests feel welcome and comfortable during their stay, to present all the museum had to offer in the most interesting way and to encourage parting guests to come again and bring their friends. It was also his duty to advertise the museum to the world at large, inviting it to come in and marvel over the unique pieces of Azakawa that could be found nowhere else.

At the very least, it was his job to make sure that people were aware the museum _existed_.

But Suga had never been a very good businessman. Other than the sign he had hung outside the gate, announcing that the building was in fact a museum open to the public and not a private residence, and a small, rather bland article he ran in the papers of half a dozen neighboring villages announcing a 'Children's Free Admission Day,' he relied solely on word of mouth to furnish him with visitors.

Unfortunately the kind of word of mouth advertising he got was mediocre at best. Just as he had never been much of a businessman, he had never been a very personable man. He wasn't particularly _un_ friendly, he just didn't go to extraordinary lengths to be liked, and most found his manners off-putting. When meeting him for the first time, new acquaintances were struck by a few things quite forcibly. He was taller than average and lean, which only made his height seem much more than it was. There was a quickness about him, an abruptness to his movements and brusqueness in his words. The fact that he very rarely wore anything but black - a very practical color, he thought - only seemed to make him even less approachable. His coloring was much like his choice of clothes - stark. Pale skin and black hair that fell into eyes that were such a pale blue they were almost white.

The more politically correct citizens of Azakawa were apt to say that he was odd. The ones who cared less about politeness said he was creepy, weird or outright insane. It might all have been mitigated to a certain degree if he could speak to the people who came to see the exhibits. But Suga was mute, and had to make his thoughts known by writing them down on paper. If he could just give voice to what he wanted to say, then some of his 'creepy' reputation might melt away. True, he had been seen much the same way when he had been a child, and then he _had_ been able to speak, though he hadn't indulged in the ability much.

When communicating in written form, so much was lost. Subtleties of tone and inflection, his memos were devoid of emotion on their own. And unless he wanted to spend an inordinate amount of time fleshing out every thought with his pen, he came across as curt, even rude, as his memos were always to the point. Those who could speak had so much more range, so much more quickness, and were often annoyed at Suga's inability to meet them at the same level.

So no, the Azakawa Museum did not get so many visitors as it was likely to, and that could be in part traced back to its manager, either through some failing of his own or some circumstance that was beyond his control but still very much tied to him.

But another reason why it remained so empty, so unvisited by either locals or tourists, had to do with the limited and bizarre nature of what was on display.

Azakawa was a small village, slowly growing under the guidance of a driven Council, and had been even smaller in its early days. Tucked in the mountains with the forest reaching its dark arms around it like a jealous parent, Azakawa was isolated from the outside world. The effects of that isolation showed in its citizenry, even to this day, but historically it had led to the development of some rather singular local beliefs, legends, customs and practices. With little to no outside influence, the people of Azakawa had come up with their own ways of dealing with the wilds that surrounded them, the mysterious minerals they mined from the mountains, and with each other when laws were broken. Without the watchful eyes and judgments of outsiders, Azakawa had birthed its own brutal form of justice, and from a vicious beginning had abused their liberties even further until they had birthed monsters of their very own.

The Kotori Obake was one such monster. Once she had been a woman of Azakawa, whose husband had been wrongly accused of some crime. He had been so accused because the punishment for such crimes was the forfeiture of their family, and the accuser of the man had desired the woman who would later become the Kotori Obake.

Her husband, her child, and her unborn babe were all taken and killed, while the woman, whose name history declined to recollect, was taken to the forest, to the manmade cave system. There she was forced to endure any number of horrors at the hands of her husband's accuser and the other men of Azakawa as 'punishment' for her husband's crimes. She died in the dark, cold and filth of that hateful place, and in death her hate and sorrow twisted her spirit until she became a _yaksha_ , the Kotori Obake. A vengeful, obsessive spirit, eternally searching for her lost children, she took the children of Azakawa. Usually they were never seen again, sometimes they were found as lifeless corpses. She would form promises with the children, bonds between herself and her chosen victims, and then she would take them. But she was never satisfied. No child, however precious, could replace the ones she had lost.

Suga also believed that a part of her was driven entirely by hate. She took the children of the village, tore them from their parents and loved ones just as her own child had been taken from her as punishment on the people that had so betrayed her and her family.

She would have had free reign to do so, and perhaps the village would have disappeared entirely over time, picked apart by the woman's twisted spirit, had it not been for the Ogami-san.

If the Kotori Obake were the ravening wolf preying on the villagers of Azakawa, then the Ogami-san was the hunter to drive her back into the shadows of her forest den. The Ogami-san of Azakawa was one who knew the secrets of the night glowstone, the peculiar crystal native to the mountains. They knew the rituals and prayers that could light the secret heart of the stones, filling them with radiance and the power to drive away and purify evil spirits, including the Kotori Obake. For generations the Ogami-san had always appeared in the same family, a kind of inheritance and obligation, and that family was honored in the village, respected as protectors of the village. For many generations the Kanzaki family had protected Azakawa from the vengeance of a monster it had created.

Suga shivered, gripped the delicate cup in his hands a little tighter. The tea was hot enough to scald his fingers even through the porcelain, but it could not warm him. It could not touch the deep chill that had long ago nestled in his bones.

The wind picked up outside, the trees of the forest behind the museum taking up its aged, crack-voiced song as branches swayed back and forth across the sky. Suga imagined those branches reaching for the museum, hungry for it and the lives it once held. For this building had once been the home of the Kanzaki family, they who continually defied and defeated its mistress.

The forest didn't know that the Kanzakis were all gone now, the mansion empty save for the dust, crumbling memories, and one single imposter Ogami-san.

Suga did not care so much for the museum as a place of history. He respected it, of course, and understood perhaps more than anyone else of the village the importance of remembering the past. But there was only so much he could care the particular kind of history Azakawa Village had experienced. It was all so steeped in blood and filth that Suga had a hard time maintaining his composure when he was so near to it. Besides which, some of the most important aspects of Azakawa's history were not on display, but hidden away in boxes or in the manmade caves. It was a history full of holes that he presented to the public, more so than the average museum.

Suga cared for the mansion as the traditional home of the Kanzakis, the family that had taken him in, as his own home, and as the last protection of the village against the Kotori Obake.

He was the Ogami-san of Azakawa, now. He had been taught by the last Ogami-san of the Kanzaki line, Keiichirou, to take on that mantle in place of his son and granddaughter. The granddaughter, Kanzaki Shiori, had been sent far away from Azakawa Village in hopes of protecting her. Because she, at the tender age of eight, had made a promise with the Kotori Obake. In the true spirit of a future Ogami-san and a loyal friend, she had made that promise in order to save an equally young Suga, who had foolishly wandered into the forest to search for his mother. She had offered herself in Suga's place to that evil spirit without hesitation, putting her friend before her life.

As a child Suga had always been shy, more given to watching events unfold than to putting himself into them, but he couldn't stand by and watch his only friend by taken by the Kotori Obake right before his eyes. He had offered _himself_ to save her, as she had done for him, but only succeeded in prolonging the time until the Kotori Obake would come for her, at the price of his voice.

When they told Shiori's parents what had happened, they had cried and cursed, hugged Shiori hard, and thanked Suga for what he had done. He hadn't understood why they were thanking him when it was because of him that any of this had happened. As a family the Kanzakis decided to take Shiori and flee Azakawa. Perhaps, they thought, with distance the Kotori Obake would be unable to complete her promise.

But to break up the family would be to sever the Kanzaki line, and leave Azakawa without an Ogami-san. Suga offered himself up as an apprentice to the aging Keiichirou. Both of his parents were dead, no one else wanted him, and he had a natural affinity with the glowstones. Looking at the frightened faces of Shiori's parents and grandfather, he had decided that taking on the responsibility of the Ogami-san as his duty. It was the best way he could think of to protect Shiori.

His first act as an apprentice, under Keiichirou's mournful guidance, had been to erase all of Shiori's memories of Azakawa and the Kotori Obake. Without knowing her promise, it was possible that she would never be claimed by the evil spirit.

Taking all memories of the village, where Shiori had lived her entire life, meant taking all but the vaguest of memories of her childhood. Including every memory she had of Suga, and their friendship. To Shiori, he no longer existed. In a way, to Suga no one _but_ Shiori existed after that.

Old Keiichirou had instructed Suga in all he would need to know. Everything about the mining, processing and refining of the night glowstone, everything they knew of the history of Azakawa Village and the nature of the spirits they pitted themselves against, and all of the finer points of what it took to be the Ogami-san. Suga learned, absorbing it all and turning it all to his particular methods, determined that not a single child would fall victim to the Kotori Obake under his watch, but more especially determined that the promise of his friend would never be fulfilled. He would protect Shii-chan from the evil _yaksha_. She would not pay the price for his folly.

Suga had grown up, Keiichirou had passed away, and Suga converted the aging mansion into a museum. It seemed fitting. It was a place to remember the past and prevent it from repeating over and over, to teach the children why the forest was forbidden and what would happen if they dared to defy that rule; as Suga had once defied it. No more children should suffer what he and Shiori did.

It also seemed fitting, in Suga's darker moments, that the mansion be filled with the past when there was no more future to be had. Unless he took on some apprentice, then he would be the last Ogami-san.

Whatever his thoughts, Suga preferred his duties. He protected the village, he did his best to educate the children, and he ensured that Shiori was safe. So long as he was sure of that last, the rest… well, the rest didn't matter so much.

And then… Shiori had come back. With no warning, his childhood friend had come back to Azakawa Village.

He hadn't recognized her at first. So many years had passed; it was difficult to reconcile the brash tomboy of his memory with the pretty young woman he had been faced with. When he learned her name, his heart had stopped in his chest. Upon realizing that no, she truly did not remember him or anything of her childhood home, it had nearly broken. His childhood tendency of crying easily had nearly resurfaced, but years of learning to put on a stoic face had saved him. Instead of weeping, he had told her - through memos - to leave.

He had told his best friend, who couldn't remember him, and whom he longed nothing more than to embrace and relive the last ten years of their lives, to go away. She had to, to stay safe, and he had sworn that he would always keep her safe.

Except she refused to leave. Her outsides might have changed, but inside she was the same Shii-chan she had been as a child. Brash, stubborn, and able to talk him into anything; perhaps he had not changed much, either.

Against all logic, he had allowed her to stay in the mansion, expressly for the purpose of investigating her past, her family, and to try and fill a mysterious gap in her memory. He should have made her leave. He knew that now and he had known it then as well. He ought to have hardened his heart and made the girl go back to the city, back to the protection of a modern world, of a school and friends and ignorance. But his heart refused to harden when it came to Shii-chan. She might not remember him, but she still laid claim over much of him. She was the most important person in Suga's life, though to her, he was simply an unfriendly museum manager.

Then the storm came, and the rain that always seemed to give the Kotori Obake so much strength. Shiori had gone missing, searching for his troublesome regular Sakuma. And then the panicked search for her in the forest, fighting the spirits of lost children as they poured out in front of him, and finally finding her, his Shii-chan, unconscious, before the Kotori Obake's pool. Her memories came back. She touched his cheek and called him 'Suga-kun,' and his hot tears had mixed with the rain.

She had smiled as she whispered, "Crybaby…"

They had been lucky to get out alive, but not lucky enough to be free of the threat. The Kotori Obake was still out there, and Shiori now remembered the promise. There would be no sure way to keep her safe.

So Suga had reached a decision. He would remain true to his duty, would keep the promise he had made as a child to protect Shii-chan from the danger he had exposed her to. To do that would mean betraying her trust, but if it meant saving her life…

He took her to the train station. He lied to her, saying one day she could return. One day he would contact her and she could come back to her childhood home if she wanted.

It was so much easier to lie when one's words could not tremble, when all one said carried the implicit honesty of black and white.

She turned to board the train. He came near, touched her, and held the glowing crystal before her eyes as he had done when they were children. Realization in her eyes as the stone flashed, fixing her gaze; the hurt in them, the flash of disbelieving betrayal.

One of her hands had caught his sleeve and she gripped it tight as she called his name, begged him to wait, not to take her memories again, not again, _please, Suga-kun…!_

The teacup shook in Suga's pale hand. He drank the burning liquid as the wind continued to howl outside, looking for a way in. He was cold, down to his very marrow, and no amount of tea could ever hope to warm him.

How much of himself had he given to the stones? As the Ogami-san, just how much of his essence had he poured into the crystals to give them their purifying light? How much more could he possibly be expected to give?

He felt empty, hollowed out of everything that was warm or held any meaning, with only the cold, ceaseless rain left to fill him up again. Only one thought kept the sea within him from drowning his heart completely:

Shii-chan was safe. She was safe and could light the world with her smile, her warmth and her kindness. That thought, and the memory of her warmth touching _him_ was enough to keep him afloat. For her, he could tread water for a while longer.

It had been many weeks since Shiori had returned home, and the weather was only growing worse - colder, wetter, and darker. Even for Suga's admittedly low expectations, the number of visitors over the summer had been abysmally low, and the coming months only promised less.

The Village Council was taking this decided downturn in the museum's already poor accounts to push its agenda for demolishing the building. The entire Council were all very 'forward thinking,' by which they meant that they wanted more traffic - and money - coming through Azakawa, and the best way to encourage that was extensive modernization. This meant that old buildings like the museum were directly in their sights for eradication.

It was difficult enough for Suga to communicate normally, but to be driven into a verbal corner and have to defend himself with his words was a level of cruelty only small town politicians could conceive. They made valid points when it came to the museum's sustainability, the need or lack thereof in the village for a museum, and it was getting harder and harder to make good arguments in his defense. More than ever he missed old Keiichirou. His mentor had been his support in all things, and had held some sway in the Village Council. If he were still alive, their chances would be so much better. Of course, if he were he still living, the building would be his home and not a museum, a public building up to the whims of a group of appointed village overlords.

Suga had to keep the museum standing, with or without Keiichirou. It was his home as well as his ostensible career, but more than that, it was Azakawa's reminder of the past. Without it, the forest would no longer be forbidden. Children would start disappearing again, and without the constant presence of the Ogami-san, the Kotori Obake might extend her reach beyond the trees. She might escape…

And then what would become of Shii-chan?

He would have to go to the Council and make his case as best he was able. Again. It was the only way he knew to stave off the coming demolitions, though he was beginning to feel the whole thing was an exercise to futility.

He would take Officer Mochizuki with him when the time came. The policeman knew how important it was for the museum to remain, that the forest remain forbidden. The young man had been a witness to a lot of what happened when Shiori and Sakuma went missing, and could be counted on with anything Suga might need support with. Technically he was an outsider, a new transfer from a large city, and as such his support might not carry so much weight to the Council members, who tended to view outsiders with suspicion, but Suga would take what he could get. Besides, having him come along had the added benefit of having an _audible_ voice in his favor.

He would need more glowstone soon as well, he realized. Almost all of what he had possessed before Shiori's visit had been destroyed, decayed or otherwise used up in their battles. That would have to be remedied soon, or even with the museum standing the village would be open to the spirits of the forest. Suga would have to craft more guard stones for the forest, more accessories - pendants, beads and the like - and he would need a new katana to replace the one that had been broken.

Beyond the walls of the mansion the moaning wind was joined by a sudden downpour of rain. Suga sat silently, his hands growing as cold as the empty porcelain cup he held, and listened to the drops as they pounded against the windows.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Uplifting beginning, yeah?_

 **Yaksha:** _This is a Sanskrit word, according to Google, which will tie in later with other things that have appeared in the game. It's normally a benevolent nature spirit, found in Hindu, Jain and Buddhist traditions, but which in the game seems to refer just to an evil or vengeful spirit. So we're going with that._

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone. See you next week!**_


	2. Part II

_**A/N:**_ _Welcome back! On to part two!_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part II

…

It was impossible to sleep. The drumming of rain against the windowpanes was too loud, too distracting to allow for slumber. It was strange, not so long ago the sound of rain would have acted as a sedative, lulling her to sleep with its soft patter. Now it grated.

With a sigh, Shiori sat up in bed, turning on the little desk lamp she could reach courtesy of a small apartment. Across the small room, her roommate mumbled in her sleep and turned away from the light.

Shiori stared at the back of her roommate's head for a moment, making sure she hadn't woken the girl.

She envied her roommate being able to sleep so soundly, so easily, as though sleep _wasn't_ one of the most difficult feats a human being could ever hope to accomplish. It had been so long since Shiori had enjoyed a full night of sleep. Weeks since she had managed more than a few hours, and those broken and spread across the entire night, snatched whenever she could get them. Her health and her grades were both suffering for it. At first she had been able to function almost normally, waiting for a night when she could sleep soundly. Then as time went on with no improvement she had been able to hide the evidence of her insomnia fairly well. A little makeup, a lot of coffee and using some of those sleepless hours to brush up for exams before her sleep starved brain could forget all she had studied. She muscled her way through classes, her thighs bruised with all of the pinches she gave herself under the desk to stay alert.

It hadn't taken long before people began to notice, despite all of her efforts at concealment. It was difficult to know who had noticed first; her teachers, her classmates, her part time job or her roommate?

Her teachers and classmates noticed at almost exactly the same time. When her grades, which had only barely been staying above the danger line suddenly took a nose dive was about the time when her desk became a pillow whose siren song she could not resist.

At the little café where she worked for a few hours four days a week, her employer became aware when she received half a dozen complaints of wrong orders all on the same day.

And her roommate, poor Rin, had become all too well aware of Shiori's insomnia the third time she had been woken at two in the morning by Shiori moving around in the kitchen. If that hadn't been enough of a clue, then the first time she had been yanked out of a sound slumber by Shiori's nightmare induced screaming ensured that Rin was the _most_ aware of Shiori's problem, save Shiori herself.

She really was lucky to have Rin as a roommate. There weren't many who would put up with such a troublesome roommate as well as Rin. Considering that her schedule was even more jam-packed than Shiori's, with college, job, _and_ tutoring freshmen, it would have been perfectly reasonable for her to move out. But Rin seemed to be made of patience. She was a little cranky in the morning after an interrupted night, but she never blamed Shiori. 'You can't help what you dream, and the insomnia has got to be herder on you than on me.'

That she also put up with Shiori's general propensity for clutter and her bad habits of not taking out the garbage or to do the dishes was enough to qualify her for sainthood, in Shiori's opinion.

The wind picked up outside, and the rain beat against the glass louder than before. Suppressing the urge to shiver, Shiori pulled the covers up around her legs and leaned her back against the wall.

As bad as the lack of sleep was, and as disturbing as the dreams that she had when she _did_ manage to drift off tended to be, they were both just symptoms. There was something else going on that Shiori couldn't quite figure out, and which she hadn't shared with anyone, not even ever-understanding Rin, for fear they would think she had gone crazy. She wasn't quite certain of her sanity herself, yet.

This was Shiori's second year of college and her second year of sharing an apartment with Rin. When she had gotten back from a trip she'd made over summer break, Rin had asked where it was she had gone and if she'd had a good time. Shiori had replied that she had gone to her family's home in the country, and it had been unutterably boring. This left the duty of interesting vacation stories with Rin, which she dove into with gusto, recalling every moment of beach excursions and bravery tests on camping trips with relish.

Shiori had let her run on, glad that Rin's fondness for talking kept her from inquiring very closely, or at all about Shiori's summer. Because the truth was, she couldn't remember it.

Not a single moment of what amounted to a couple weeks worth of time. No matter how hard she tried, all she could recall was one moment sitting in this very apartment, thinking about the time she had to spend over her week's vacation, and then the next she was on some train, hundreds of miles and several switchovers from home, coming back from wherever she had been. Between these two memories there was nothing, just emptiness. She couldn't remember leaving the apartment, where she had gone, what she had done, how long she had been away or what had made her come back before the end of summer. She hadn't hit her head, nor did she feel sick, and yet there was an unmistakable and significant gap in her memory.

Inexplicable amnesia was bad enough, but it wasn't _just_ amnesia. She wasn't sure she could have explained it even if she wanted to, but on the train she had woken up on, as though her entire summer had been a dream that she had forgotten with the rising of the sun, she had broken out into tears. She had cried, quietly, the whole way home. She didn't know why she had wept so bitterly, hour after hour, it's just… she had hurt in a way that she didn't understand. It was like something vital had been taken from her, a place inside her that was emptier, colder than it had been before. So she had mourned, without knowing what it was she mourned for.

Somehow, that made it worse.

Once she was home, Shiori had wondered what she should do. Should she tell someone what had happened - so far as she knew it - and get their opinion? Should she see a doctor for the alarming loss of memory? Should she just pretend that nothing at all had happened and continue her life as an orphaned college student as best she could? Nothing she could think of seemed like the right thing to do, and at a standstill, she did nothing. She lied to Rin to keep her from worrying until she figured out what to do.

Except she never did figure out what she should do. She didn't think she could bear the kinds of responses she was likely to get if she tried to explain her experience to anyone, and she couldn't imagine anyone's advice on the matter would be much better than her own thoughts, in any case. What kind of advice _could_ someone give to a girl who woke up on a train heading home from who knew where, and no idea where they had been for weeks? A doctor, though probably a wise idea in case there were something really wrong with her, she was reluctant to see. What if they didn't find anything wrong with her physically; would they send her to see a shrink, then? And what if a psychologist didn't find anything wrong, either? Or worse, what if they did?

The option of just moving on, as though nothing at all had happened, was a tempting one. Just ignore the missing time and the mystery and get back to classes. However, that option was discarded almost as soon as it was considered.

She might not be able to recall what happened during her summer, but in a way she couldn't forget it, either. It was like the space left after losing a tooth, she couldn't forget that there was something missing, something that had been there before. And like a lost tooth, she kept coming back to the empty space to prod and poke, as though doing so would make whatever memories she had lost return. It never did, and Shiori suddenly realized one day that the gap in her memories bore a striking resemblance to her childhood.

She knew from friends that childhood memories faded with the passing of years, but that was just the point. They _faded_. They softened around the edges, their details lost in the distance of time. In Shiori's case, she remembered nothing before the age of nine; it was all just a blank before that.

This felt very much the same. Her summer was a gulf of emptiness she could not navigate, no matter how hard she tried.

The trouble with her sleeping started the same night she had gotten back. At first it was just difficult to stay asleep for a whole night, but then it became increasingly difficult to fall asleep in the first place. After about a week the nightmares started.

They were so disconnected that Shiori was surprised that they held any power over her at all. Trees standing close together, a wide pool of water and a dock, pots filled with something dark and indecipherable, a pale blue glow in the darkness, a presence, dark and malicious, coming for her. All of it standard imagery for nightmares, the tried and true props to be found lying around in anyone's subconscious. Yet despite their generic quality, the dreams terrified Shiori, and the little sleep she could get was anything but restful.

Little things began to bother her that made no sense to her. A note left to her by Rin or a teacher would fill her with a painful sense of nostalgia, and she would stand with the piece of paper in her hands as though it were a precious gift, though all it would be was a grocery list or exam reminder. The sound of children crying, not uncommon with a playground a block away from the apartment, made her feel a mixture of contradictory emotions: sad, protective, and oddest of all, frightened.

It might all just been a result of her lack of sleep, the need for and deprivation of rest playing havoc with her emotions so she reacted strangely and intensely to random things. She was growing irritable, why not this as well?

Except Shiori didn't buy it. Irritability was a natural response to too little sleep, it made sense. Getting sad over a memo or scared at a kid bawling because they scraped their knee was not. These felt like they were connected more directly to Shiori's missing memories. Something had changed her over the summer, and whether she could remember what had caused it or not, those changes remained.

And then the rain had come, and everything had gotten so much worse.

Once the raining season had begun was when Shiori's grades took their sudden plummet. This was when she began nodding off in class and taking down orders in the café wrong over and over. This was when she began waking up from dreams screaming and the few hours a night she had been averaging before was curtailed even further to handfuls of minutes.

She didn't want the people around her to start thinking that she was insane, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering precisely the same thing.

The rain and wind continued to buffet the apartment building. Shiori could hear it pounding at the windows, the walls and the roof, a storm trying to beat its way inside. She was vividly aware that the only thing keeping the falling rain from her flesh was this flimsy box of an apartment, a wall maybe a foot thick separating her from the elements, and as she sat huddled in her bed she swore she could feel the heat of her body being sucked out of her through her back.

The rain made her nervous, and just like everything else she didn't know why. The drumming, pattering, pounding of it worked its way into her brain like slivers of glass, impossible to ignore. In its constant susurration Shiori was sure she could hear… voices. Carried on the wind and tapped out by falling drops, Shiori could make out voices, whispering secrets just on the edge of her understanding and beyond her reach. They were not nice voices. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but they were full of malice, a deep and twisted malevolence that made Shiori think they came straight from her nightmares.

Whispers surrounding her, darting out like tongues through the falling rain that filled her lungs up, drowning her from the inside.

Was it any wonder she couldn't sleep?

It wasn't until very recently that she realized that she remembered the rain. Obviously she remembered rain in general, but this… she could remember rain from the time she had lost during her summer break. One thing, filling that gulf in her memory, was the patter and drip of rain.

Moving as quietly as she could, Shiori got out of bed, kicking away her quilt and tiptoeing around stacks of textbooks, dirty dishes, and discarded clothes. She should clean up, tidy her half of the apartment so it more or less matched Rin's side, but with everything else going on, a few dirty bowls just couldn't hold her focus. It was possible that imposing some control over those things that she could would make her feel better about those things where she really couldn't, but she was too tired to try.

She made her way to the tiny kitchenette and using the dim light of the lamp on her desk so she wouldn't have to turn on a second light, filled the kettle in the sink and set it on the stove to heat up.

Things couldn't continue as they were. She was failing her classes, she was in danger of losing her job, and it was only a matter of time before even Rin's patience ran out and she would be without a home as well. Something had to change. She had to get her life back.

She had to get the pieces she had lost back.

Thankfully she wasn't completely without clues. She had two, besides how long she had been gone. One, the more intriguing but also the less helpful of the two, was something she had found deep in one of her pockets after returning home. She didn't recognize it, so must have picked it up sometime during her memory gap, and for some reason it had been important enough for her to save.

At first glance it had looked like a broken piece of white glass. About the size of the last bone in her thumb, it was rounded on one side and jagged on the other, coming to a shallow point, like it had cracked from some much larger object. Though what that object might be Shiori had no idea. She assumed something glass or possibly a ceramic, milky white as the fragment was. She had almost thrown it out when she found it in her pocket, but was very glad she had not. Something had made her hold on to the fragment, some dormant pack rat instinct, maybe, and she had kept it. Now, as the rest of the world seemed to be falling down around her, she found herself returning to the fragment more and more. It was a piece of the puzzle to her lost memory, a solid bit of evidence that the time spent away from home hadn't simply ceased to exist. It had happened, that time had existed in reality, which meant that Shiori should be able to find some other evidence of it.

Disturbingly, though, the fragment also seemed to confirm that whatever had happened was far outside the ordinary. Whenever she held the fragment in her hands the whispers grew louder, closer. One in particular that sent chills across her skin. It was different from the others; quieter, gentler, insistent but not malicious. Like the other, though, it was impossible to make out was _what_ it was saying. Whenever she held the fragment in her hands that voice grew louder and the need to know what had happened to her doubled and redoubled until her vision blurred and her heart ached.

The other clue she had was much more prosaic, but also more practical in terms of discovering what had happened over the summer.

For whatever reason, Shiori hadn't told Rin or any of her friends where she had been going over break. She wasn't the type to keep a journal and her pockets had been curiously empty of anything like receipts, souvenirs or even a return train ticket. Where it was she had gone, exactly, looked like it was going to remain as much of a mystery as anything else.

That is, until she had finally started cleaning out her wastepaper baskets. She might not keep a journal, but she was slow to clean up her litter, which in this case turned out to be a major positive. As she was dumping one of her bins into a garbage bag, she spotted a crumpled piece of paper, one word clear as it tumbled from bin to bags: 'Station.'

Shiori had dropped bin and bag in her mad scramble to snatch up the wadded paper. Smoothing it out on her knee with trembling hands, it was simultaneously more and less than she had hoped for. It was a list of train stations, each one noted with specific lines, arrival and departure times. It was a kind of verbal map, and with a real map to reference it against, it led to a station practically in the middle of nowhere deep in the mountains. A station so seldom used, in fact, that it was an automatic station. No employees were staffed there. Looking at the list, many of the stations were familiar to her, though she hardly used the train. Most of them were the same stations she had used as changeovers on her confused trip back home.

There was no room for doubt. Wherever she had gone, she had planned for the trip before making it. Now thanks to her general slovenliness, she could retrace her steps. She could go back and find her memories, or at least find out why they had been taken. She _had_ to go back. She didn't think she could live much longer in this state.

She didn't think she could live with this emptiness inside her, full of nothing but whispers and rain.

She had already arranged with the school for some time away for herself. She didn't say what exactly it was for, only that she needed a little time to concentrate on her health. It was true in itself, and none of her teachers seemed to have any trouble believing that she needed it. Her grades could hardly get much worse even with an extended absence, and without _something_ changing she was going to flunk out anyway. Her time off had been approved without objection, she had an entire week beginning Monday. Today was Thursday. The only reason she wasn't leaving earlier was because the train she needed didn't run over the weekend.

Shiori looked back towards the other room, to where she could see the outline of Rin's dark head. She hadn't told her roommate what she was doing yet, hadn't decided if she _should_ tell her. She would have to tell her something soon though; she couldn't just leave the apartment on Monday morning and not expect the other girl to worry. Rin was already worried by Shiori's appearance and behavior, if she disappeared without any explanation she could expect the police waiting for her on one of the platforms, sent by a frantic roommate.

Shiori would come up with something between now and Monday, something that would satisfy Rin that she knew what she was doing and that it really was for her health.

The kettle began to whistle. Shiori snatched it up quickly to silence it. Gathering up what she would need to make her drink, she stopped at the cupboard.

Did she want tea or coffee? She hadn't thought about it. One would help wake her up, marginally; the other was meant and might succeed in soothing her nerves, in helping her to sleep. Stay awake or chance sleep; possibly gain a few minutes of forgetfulness in the arms of slumber, or stay up, and try to remember?

The rain grew louder outside.

Shiori bit her lip, and reached for the jar of coffee.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Thanks again for reading, everyone. Next chapter up on Wednesday._


	3. Part III

_**A/N:**_ _Finally through the intros, now onto some actual story. :)_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part III

…

Suga took a deep breath, finally feeling as though he could do so without risking some kind of reprisal. Behind him Azakawa Village Center loomed like a great crouching beast, eyeing the tiny man-shaped prey that had just escaped it, plotting for when it would pounce and consume him at last and for all.

For now, Suga _had_ escaped, and the open air was a relief. He knew the Village Council wasn't finished with him, but he was free for now of their wretched building and their merciless, smug self-satisfaction. He would take what he could get.

The meeting between himself and the Council concerning the future of the Azakawa Museum had gone better than expected, actually. Before going in, Suga had taken the time to write out a full letter for the Council, detailing all of the points he wanted to make in the museum's defense. It had been his experience that people often became irritated when they had to wait for him to finish writing out his thoughts, and as a result he often abbreviated what he had to say, which could be detrimental when attempting to make a persuasive argument. It had also been Suga's experience that the Village Council had a nasty habit of taking advantage of the time it took for him to write out his side of the conversation by talking over him, continuing with their own lines before Suga could make his case. With the letter already in hand, they would have to ignore _all_ he had to say if they wanted to do it at all, which he was fairly certain at least two Council members would raise objections to.

More than the letter, though, Suga suspected that it was Officer Mochizuki that made the real difference.

The young policeman stood with him on the steps of the Village Center. He looked about as relieved as Suga felt to be out of the Center and away from the Council. It wasn't a warm sunny day, but one would never know it from the way he tilted his head back, a beatific smile on his face as he stretched his arms out to the sides. He looked so happy and pleased that it made him seem even younger than he was. From past conversations, Suga was aware that Mochizuki-kun was only a few years older than himself. Most of the time Suga had to remind himself that out of the two of them, he was the younger one.

Mochizuki stood a few inches shorter than Suga, which gave the first false impression of their relative ages. He had light brown hair which always seemed to be in a state of disarray, no matter what time of day Suga saw him, and fresh, round features most would call 'baby-faced.' More than how he looked, though, was his general attitude and demeanor. Mochizuki was a man who always seemed to have a smile for every situation, for everyone he met. Even for the most cantankerous of citizens he had a kind word and a smile. To Suga, who had trouble interacting even with those he felt moderately comfortable with, it was a talent of almost supernatural quality, this universal affability. He got along with everyone, was well-liked and accepted by all in Azakawa, a village that was notorious for its distrustful, insular attitudes. Even Suga, born and raised in the village, was not nearly so accepted.

Suga was not unaware that this preternatural ability of Mochizuki-kun's had also worked on him. He was no more immune than anyone else; although he had thought his natural diffidence would have been enough to ward him against Mochizuki's charms. Not long after Mochizuki-kun had arrived in Azakawa, he had made a point of acquainting himself with his new home, starting with all of the points of interest, of which the local museum was one.

The outsider had taken what Suga had thought of at the time as an unusual but gratifying interest in the history of the village. He took the tour, went from room to room and looked at every display, every picture and every map, read every caption and every excerpt that was made available. He had paid heed to Suga's posted instructions to not handle the displays, had asked intelligent questions that marked his interest as more than politeness, and had taken Suga's method of communication completely in stride. He was one of the best guests Suga could imagine the museum having, and found himself wishing he had more if they could all be like the young officer.

Mochizuki-kun made it a habit to stop in and chat with Suga when he could, which usually came to about three or four times a week - Azakawa was not a busy village. He would come in, usually on his lunch hour, and strike up a conversation. At first they talked about the general history of the village, then about more of the specifics, then about current dynamics. The first time the manager had decided to take his lunch at the same time was when Mochizuki discovered what a terrible cook Suga was, and he had begun bringing enough to share with Suga. 'To cut down on the carbon in your diet,' he had teased.

At some point the two of them, the unlikable local and the affable outsider, became friends. Suga was a little vague as to how exactly it had happened, but he was grateful. It was nice to have someone who liked him.

It was also nice to have someone who would lend moral support to his cause. Despite being an outsider and possessing a kind of natural, bumbling naïveté, Mochizuki-kun had proved to be a surprisingly effective advocate for the museum and its manager. Perhaps it was _because_ of his naïveté, coupled with his likeableness that made him so effective. He took others off guard, slipped behind their defenses without their realizing. Even Suga had been surprised at his competence. He had read Suga's letter aloud to the Council, further ensuring that his words would have to be heard and weighed by all, similarly read any note Suga wrote, and made several points of his own on keeping the museum as it was.

Suga had been surprised, but the Council had been shocked.

He made the obvious points that the past should not be sacrificed just to bring in revenue, that if what Azakawa had been was lost, then the citizens risked losing all that made them uniquely _them_ , and how _could_ they go into the future without a true sense of self? Listening, Suga had his own opinion on the value of knowing what Azakawa had once been as a guide into the future, but kept it to himself. Mochizuki-kun was making an argument in his favor, after all.

After these first few points, which Suga had made himself in the past to the Council, he had gone on to one that seemed much more likely to catch the Council's profit focused outlook.

A large amount, if not the majority of the museum's space was devoted to the legend and myths of the area, many of which the elders held true to this day. Specifically, the museum held an impressively intact record of the legend of the Kotori Obake and the use of the night glowstone to hold her at bay. Now, whether the Council _believed_ the legends or not, it seemed to the officer that such a unique and long surviving legend could act as one of the village's largest draws. There were many in Japan who held the traditions and superstitions of the past in a kind of fascination, after all, and for foreign tourists that could be considered even truer. When he, Mochizuki, had first arrived in Azakawa, he had spent a significant portion of his time getting to know all that the museum had to offer, and such subjects weren't even his particular line of interest. If such were true in _his_ case, then why could they not consider it a possibility with future patrons? With the support of the Council, the Azakawa Museum could become a cornerstone of their tourist industry.

The Council had obviously not expected such eloquence spoken on Suga's behalf, and the meeting had ended on an ambiguous note, with promises to take all that had been said into consideration, as well as the museum's potential as a future draw for tourists.

It was better than Suga had expected. When they had walked into that meeting all of the looks leveled on him had nearly made him quail. Those looks had been full of steely purpose, already decided against Suga's continued presence in the village before he even 'spoke.' He immediately realized that he was walking into his own funeral.

Until Mochizuki-kun had stepped in.

The officer finished stretching with a sigh and looked over at Suga with his easy smile. "You headed back home now, Suga-kun?"

Suga nodded. There was nowhere else he would go, nowhere else he ever really went. His home was the museum, the museum was his home. Save the occasional trip to the local food market or into the forest, Suga went nowhere else.

"Then I think I'll come with you, if you don't mind. I haven't had lunch yet, and the meeting made my hungry." His smile widened. "I brought a couple pudding cups today."

Suga returned the smile with a small one of his own. Once Mochizuki-kun began bringing enough food in his lunches for the both of them, it hadn't taken him long to discover that Suga had a not-much-indulged sweet tooth. Since his discovery he seemed set on feeding the craving as often as he could, with as many different kinds of confectionaries as possible. The fact that Mochizuki-kun shared Suga's secret love of sweets probably helped, and the two of them tried many new varieties and compared notes. He nodded again, this time with a shrug, meaning to convey that he was fine with whatever the officer decided to do with his time, and he was not at all overly tempted by any promise of pudding cups.

They began their walk back from the Village Center, which was in fact near the center of the village, to the museum which lay at its very edge, set into the foot of the mountains. Mochizuki-kun fell into an easy pace that was deceptively moderate in speed, which could be kept up for hours if needed. Suga matched him.

It was a cool day, the kind that seemed made for reminding the world that autumn was setting the stage for winter, and soon would come the snow and crystal crisp nights. The trees were dressed in colors of flame, some leaves already tossed down to skip in the chilly breeze. The sky seemed to crouch close to the ground, the highest peaks of the mountain hidden in a mass of iron gray that stretched unbroken from one horizon to the other. The sharp, distinctive scent of a wood fire floated on the breeze, someone's defense against the cold that prowled hungrily around their home.

As they walked, Suga pulled out his memo pad and pen from his back pocket and wrote a quick couple of lines before passing it to Mochizuki-kun.

The officer took it without comment, read it without breaking stride. 'Thank you for coming today. For speaking on behalf of the museum.'

Mochizuki-kun smiled and shook his head, tucking the memo into one of his pockets. He always did that, rather than throwing them away, and Suga wondered what it was he did with them all. "Don't worry about it, Suga-kun. I'm happy to help out however I can. It's my job, after all. And besides," he added a little more seriously. "I know now how important it is that the museum remains where it is. That no one goes near that forest."

Suga nodded. Yes, Officer Mochizuki had experienced the importance of the museum firsthand. He may not have been in the thick of it, or seen the worst of what the spirits of Azakawa Forest could do, but what he had gone through he wasn't likely to ever forget. He wrote another note, tore it off the pad and handed it to Mochizuki-kun.

'Even the older generation forgets. It is good to have someone young who understands.'

"Yeah…" he said, tucking the second note away with the first. "I'll admit to having been partial to ghost stories as a kid, along with detective stories. But I still find myself wondering sometimes just how much of what happened was all in my head… Wishful thinking, I suppose. Sure didn't expect anything like this when I asked to be transferred out here."

Suga tilted his head, studied Mochizuki-kun's profile. He knew that the officer had requested his transfer, but had never asked why. Frankly, he had never been very curious about it. The motivations and political aspirations of others were of so little interest to him or anything which he had to deal with that he never wondered about it. He wondered now. Why had he decided to come here, of all places, so far from any kind of large populace? He was a young officer just starting out on his career; surely he had some kind of ambition for himself. If he did, then it was not likely to be satisfied in Azakawa Village.

'Why did you come here?'

Mochizuki-kun frowned at the note for a moment, unconsciously slowing his pace as he considered. His eye wandered to the horizon, went briefly to the forest before finally settling at a place not too far ahead of his feet.

"Because I had heard about the reputation of this place," he said, still handling the note distractedly, fingers along the edges, thumbs over the words. "About all the kids that had gone missing in the woods. It seemed strange that for such a small population so many children would disappear or end up dead. Everyone else at my station wrote it off as kids getting lost, parents not paying attention, wild animals and the like, but that didn't ring true to me. When I dug deeper I came across the legend of the Kotori Obake, but didn't believe it." He paused for a moment, his gaze becoming even less focused and his pace slowing further. "I don't know what I expected to find when I got here, but something wasn't right, and no one else seemed to be giving the reports the attention they deserved. All of my colleagues wanted the high profile cases - the murders or the high risk theft jobs. But I wanted to be somewhere where I could make a real difference to people's lives. Helping solve this mystery and maybe stop any more kids from going missing seemed perfect." He smiled at his feet. "No one else was clamoring for this post. My sergeant called me a fool when he handed me my papers. And," he shrugged, "here I am. It wasn't quite the kind of mystery I was expecting." He laughed.

Suga shook his head, agreeing. 'Not foolish. It was very kind-hearted of you.'

"Not that it made much difference, did it? I mean I got here too late to be of much use. You were already doing a good job of keeping everyone safe, there have been no disappearances for years." He clapped a friendly hand on Suga's shoulder. "But I _am_ here, and I want you to always think of me if you need a second pair of hands."

Suga didn't respond right away. He considered his friend's words, and wondered just how true they were. Oh, he didn't doubt that Mochizuki-kun meant what he said would do all in his power to stand by it, but that didn't necessarily mean that he would be able to. Suga was the Ogami-san, and he knew in his heart that such a position was a solitary one. Even old Keiichirou had been the Ogami-san alone. The weight of the title fell completely to his aged shoulders. The closest one could come to assisting the Ogami-san was as an apprentice, as once Kenji-san, old Keiichirou's son and Shii-chan's father had done, and then as Suga had done.

Just as old Keiichirou had borne the responsibility alone for most of his life, so too was Suga fated to do so. Not until - if - he passed his knowledge on to another would the burden finally be lifted from him. But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the offer of help, however ineffectual it truly was. It was better than being alone.

As for it being thanks to Suga's competency that Azakawa had enjoyed a cessation of disappearances in recent years, he wasn't sure as to the truth of that, either.

The disappearances had stopped right after that day in the forest ten years ago, when Suga and Shiori had both made promises to the Kotori Obake - Shiori to go with her, Suga to give his voice to postpone the day. The promises didn't necessarily mean that more children _couldn't_ be taken in the meantime, but considering the timing he found it likely that that was what happened. If that were the case and the Kotori Obake only had one victim in her sights until she caught her, then Suga had only one person he had to protect. And as for that…

'Not safe enough.'

…

Mochizuki frowned at the note Suga-kun handed him. It was even more terse than his usual, especially when speaking with him. When he looked at the man beside him, he didn't like what he saw.

The young manager was always pale, but outside, even in relatively weak sunlight, he was almost colorless. His spine was rigidly straight, and his pale eyes were locked forward. The muscles along his jaw were all tensed, and if Mochizuki were to touch him again he was sure that his shoulders would be rock hard under his palm. Most telling of all, though, was the telltale brightness of Suga-kun's eyes.

It was a condition that Mochizuki was becoming familiar with, but which he would never become used to. The normally reclusive manager was becoming even less sociable with each passing week, refusing to leave the confines of his museum save when necessity demanded it. Mochizuki had been doing his best to come around even more often than he normally did to check on the younger man and make sure that he was alright, or that he was eating at the very least.

Mochizuki understood, or was fairly certain that he did, what Suga-kun was going through. The change in him had begun the same day they had sent Kanzaki-san back home. Mochizuki had a bare understanding of the events at the time, but had grasped enough to know that sending her away caused Suga-kun pain, and that he blamed himself for getting her into trouble. Since then he had learned more of the girl's history and of Suga-kun's involvement in it.

It still seemed incredible, even knowing now that all the legends of Azakawa, the 'fairy tales' of the village were more true than anyone could wish. Promises with an evil spirit, a young boy apprenticing himself to an old master to become the protector of his best friend, the suppression of the girl's memory in order to save her, it was all straight out of a story book.

And all true in this place. Somehow Mochizuki had left reality behind and stepped straight into the pages of a children's book when he came to Azakawa, and his friend was caught directly in the path of the story. Suga-kun had taken Kanzaki back to the train station where Mochizuki had found her and sent her away, but not before erasing all of her memories of Azakawa again. Not before removing all her memories of Suga-kun and turning a beloved friend into a stranger, destroying their shared past for a second time.

It was hard on Suga-kun. Mochizuki could see it, could read between the lines in the story well enough to see just how deeply it was affecting the young man, but what could he do? He was an outsider to this tale, unable to do much more than look on.

"It wasn't your fault, what happened, Suga-kun," he said quietly, stumbling over words that felt so insufficient. "It wasn't anyone's fault. And she is safe now. You did what no one else could and saved her."

If it were possible, Mochizuki thought Suga-kun stiffened even more, putting such a tight hold over his body it was a wonder he could move or breathe at all. When he nodded Mochizuki was almost surprised he didn't hear anything crack as a result.

Mochizuki had to pick up his pace to keep up with Suga-kun, and in the interest of keeping their lunch congenial - and in hope of dissipating some of the storm clouds gathering over Suga-kun's head - he changed the subject.

"I was at the Sakuma house yesterday, checking that there were no recent troubles with their daughter I should know about. They told me you had asked her to look after the museum for a while?"

Suga-kun nodded without slowing.

"She's going to act as a tour guide for any visitors?"

Another nod.

This wasn't going as well as he had hoped. "Well, considering how much time she spends there, I doubt there's anyone in the village you could have asked better qualified to act as a guide. In some ways she's very mature for a middle school student. Though still a middle school student - I hope you don't expect her to take up your night guard duties as well?"

Though this question could also be answered with a simple yes or no, Suga-kun wrote out a brief note.

'I had hoped Mochizuki-kun would include the museum in his patrol route.'

Mochizuki smiled at the mix of extra-polite and friendly terminology in the note. Suga-kun might not have a voice, but he was capable of projecting a tone with how he chose to word himself. He tucked the paper carefully into the pocket with those that had come before. "Of course I will. Where is it that you're going?"

'To resupply the night glowstone. Nearly all are exhausted.'

Mochizuki blinked. He realized that it was true, almost every piece of glowstone he had seen since Kanzaki left was either dim or completely dark. It had never really occurred to him before that Suga-kun would be the one who would have to replace it all. In recent years Suga-kun must have been the one who maintained and replaced all of the glowstone set around the edges of the forest, keeping the spirits in.

He nodded. "I see. How long will you be gone?"

'A week. I leave this evening.'

"And where exactly is it that you're going?"

'My workshop. In the forest.'

Mochizuki looked at Suga-kun sharply, who was staring back at him, oddly colored eyes steady. Mochizuki could tell by the look that any of the dozen objections or arguments balanced on his tongue for going into the forest would be met with steadfast pigheadedness. He realized the Suga-kun had to have gone into the forest before now and had always managed to come back, but now that he was aware of the ridiculous danger such a venture presented he wanted to object. Strenuously. Possibly with cuffs.

But Suga-kun's unwavering stare told him he would lose any argument he cared to make. He might as well save his breath and Suga-kun some memo paper. He mentally marked his mental calendar for seven days in the future, next Thursday, when Suga-kun would be due back and swallowed his misgivings.

Still, he couldn't quite contain one objection that jumped to mind. Looking significantly up into the sky, he said, "The forecast has it raining heavily all next week, all the way through to the weekend. Are you sure you want to do this now?"

Another note was passed to him, impossibly light blue eyes never straying from him. 'It can't be helped. Azakawa needs the protection of the stones.'

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Mochizuki is probably my favorite out of the four to write. ^^_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	4. Part IV

_**A/N:**_ _It's actually been raining the last week where I am, so this is fun._

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part IV

…

The final station on Shiori's route, her destination without being certain of whether or not this was where she was meant to be, was tiny and empty. None of the few passengers that had shared the train with her disembarked, they were going on to the larger cities that lay beyond the mountains. Left alone, the train clattering into the distance on, Shiori felt the coldness of the empty station begin to seep into her. The full realization of just how alone she was hit her all at once. She had no friend with her, no one was there to meet her or even knew she was coming, no one _expected_ her. There wasn't even the dubious comfort of clamoring strangers to fill the silence and make the place feel less like a tomb. She was completely on her own, with nothing and no one to guide her.

Nothing save the whispers, which grew louder with every step she took.

Shiori shivered, tugged the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt down over her fingers. The forecast said it would be raining for most of the week, with temperatures steadily dipping into more autumnal ranges each day. Uncertain of what kind of accommodations she would be able to find or how much walking she would have to do to get to any of it, she had dressed warmly: a long sleeved shirt overlain with a medium weight, dark gray hoodie, long pants, comfortable and waterproof walking shoes, and a cheery yellow umbrella. In her pockets she had crammed all of the essentials she might need to avoid dragging a bag around, including her wallet with all of her available spending money. It wasn't very much. She could just hope that any hotels she found wouldn't be too expensive.

It was still relatively early in the day, despite how many changeovers she'd had to make to reach this obscure stop. She had started on her journey before the sun had even peeked above the horizon. With how little sleep she was getting, it seemed silly to wait for the hours she would normally be up and about, especially when the trains were already running.

She stepped out of the station into the muted sunlight, the smell of rain already in the air. There was nothing immediately outside, save a road stretching off to the left and right and an uncovered bench, which turned out to be a bus stop.

Shiori eyed the bench and the short listing of bus routes and times posted up nearby critically. She couldn't be sure how much traffic this place normally got, but from the look of the 'bus stop' it wasn't much. In fact she would have been willing to bet that they got less than even the solitary bench called for. Curious, Shiori read the bus listing.

On it was a very brief list of local towns that a single bus was meant to make its rounds to, followed by times when it would arrive at each and times it could be expected to arrive at the bench outside of the train station. None of the town names were familiar to her, but when she came to the last she was struck with a dizzying sense of déjà vu.

Azakawa Village.

She stared at the name. She didn't know it, as far as she could remember she had never been to a place called Azakawa in her life. But that was just the point, wasn't it? 'As far as she could remember' she hadn't gone anywhere over summer break, either, but she knew she had. And the name 'Azakawa' felt… familiar, like she _should_ know it. Almost like she had overheard it mentioned in a conversation or seen it written down and meant to remember it, but the memory had faded away. Or it had been plucked out of her head.

Shiori slipped a hand into her jeans pocket and found the milky fragment, the one solid clue she had brought back home with her and which she still carried. She wrapped her chilly fingers around it, its rough edges warm from lying close to her leg, and immediately the voices that moved back and forth on the edge of her hearing grew louder. Most were horrible, voices that growled and hissed with promises and threats, malice and paper thin façades of tenderness. Shiori could nearly make out what they said, and though she strained to do so, out of morbid curiosity, she did not want to know what it was they said.

All save one. One voice out of the many was not full of malice and venom. Now that it was closer and clearer it sounded soft, happy, almost child-like. As it spoke to her its tone seemed to be encouraging her, urging her on. As Shiori held on to the fragment in her pocket and stared at the bus schedule, the name 'Azakawa' crowded her thoughts.

Azakawa Village was right, she was sure of it, and she needed to get there.

Her vision blurred, the characters of the town name going indistinct, and her heart began to hurt, beating too fast. She let go of the fragment, and she could see again. She could breathe again.

She would go to Azakawa. Now she had a name, every instinct in her was urging her to go, as well as the disembodied voice of a child that may or may not have been a figment of her exhausted imagination. The thought that she might be losing her mind was never very far, but she was learning to ignore it very effectively. She could only assume that she was sane, because if she didn't, then where would she be?

 _At home, maybe?_

She shook her head and checked for the next arrival time for the bus that would take her to Azakawa. It wasn't for hours. Shiori examined the skies as critically as she had the bench only a minute before. By the time the bus came it would probably be raining, and would definitely be getting dark - and colder. That was assuming the bus would come at all. The same weird sense of déjà vu that had led her all the way to this corner of nowhere was suggesting that she not expect it.

Tucking the bright yellow umbrella under one arm, Shiori dug out one of the things she had purchased for this mad quest: a map of the area. It hadn't been easy to find. Apparently even professional cartographers were apt to gloss over the area. Not that Shiori could say she blamed them. There was so little to fill the large area of paper that it probably would have been easier and only slightly less accurate to print the word 'nothing' on the map and call it good. Shiori was dubious that she would even find the town she wanted on it.

It was there, tucked in a nest of concentric lines representing the mountains and the shaded key of a forest. It wasn't too far from the little red mark Shiori had drawn in to highlight the station, a little over two miles.

Shiori considered. She wasn't the best walker around, especially lately with little sleep and poor nutrition dragging her down. But two miles wasn't much. She could cover that and arrive long before the bus was scheduled to turn up, if it ever did, and walking would help keep her warm. The route didn't look difficult. The road went directly to the village, and since she had yet to see a single car on the road, she wasn't too worried about getting picked up by some weirdo.

Besides, now that she had started on her journey, she felt more driven than ever. She needed to move, to track down some clue of what happened to her over summer. She felt as though she were on the right track, and now there was this rising anxiety that it would slip away if she didn't keep a firm hold on it. Even if the weather was clear as a bell and she could be certain of a bus arriving in the next hour she wasn't sure she could wait. She had to move. Sitting still would drive her insane, if she wasn't there already.

Folding and tucking her map back into its designated pocket, Shiori turned her feet in the direction of Azakawa and began walking.

…

On foot it took a little under an hour for Shiori to reach Azakawa. The wind had picked up, and while the rain hadn't begun, every breeze promised it. The clouds were nearly black and hung low in the sky, heavy with storms. When the rain finally fell, it would come in buckets. Shiori was glad to have made it to town before that happened.

Though now that she was here, she had to wonder just how lucky she was. The place was even tinier than she had imagined. Most of what she could see consisted of homes, most of them small, not rising above a single story, though she thought she could see some roofs rising above the rest along the far edge of town. Though that might have been an illusion, as those buildings were the closest to the mountains and might just look taller from standing on higher ground. Looking around at what Azakawa had to offer - a few small official looking buildings, a couple of shops, a single restaurant that looked like a marginally upgraded café, a school, a police station… Shiori began to wonder if her certainty that this was the place she ought to come was really so spot on.

As hard as she tried to remember, nothing looked familiar. None of the roads, none of the buildings elicited a twinge of recognition or brought on another wave of déjà vu to tell her she was in the right place. Had she come all this was for nothing? Even the whispers had quieted to nearly nothing at all. Was she really just chasing paranoid delusions?

Unwilling to give up on this village until she was absolutely sure she was in the wrong place - if she could ever be sure of that - Shiori pulled her hood up to keep out the rising wind and continued her walk, moving briskly through the village's few streets.

It didn't take long to work her way through what had to be considered the main part of town. There was even less to it than she had thought, Azakawa didn't have so much as an inn! If she didn't find something soon she would have to give up on her search for the day, walk back to the station and get to a town with accommodations. In her planning she hadn't even considered that any town she wound up in _wouldn't_ be equipped to deal with visitors. They must not get very many to have no way of putting them up.

She made it through the village and was aimlessly wandering further from the center to the outskirts, among purely residential homes.

What should she do now? Shiori had been running almost purely on hunches and possible hallucinations, and now even those were abandoning her. If this really was the final stop she had made on her break and where she had spent a fair chunk of her summer, then she was just as in the dark as before she arrived. Possibly it had been a childish notion that if she just retraced her steps and saw where she had been, her memory would return, but it was the only plan she could come up with. She had hoped for a vague recollection at least, a feeling that she had been here before, that she had seen this place before, and then she could proceed from there. Maybe her memories, if they were locked away inside her mind, would begin shaking themselves free. If they had been taken somehow, maybe she would have a better idea where to find them. When all of that failed, what did she have left?

Realizing that she had been walking without watching where she was going for the last twenty minutes, Shiori looked up, blinking at the changed scenery around her.

Without any kind of guidance, her feet had taken her not only to the outskirts, but to the very edge of town. The mountains and the riotous reds, yellows and oranges of the forest that was their skirts lay right before her.

Perhaps because she was tired, physically and mentally, Shiori's eyes were drawn to the forest, to the deep shadows that thronged beneath the colorful boughs. She stopped walking and allowed her thoughts to be drawn into that place, even as her body remained on the sidewalk.

 _It must be so peaceful in there,_ she thought drowsily. _So quiet, away from everything. The trees are so thick, even if it_ does _rain, I'll bet no one would get wet with such a roof over them._

… _I'm so tired. It would be nice to just sit down for a little while…_

Shiori came back to herself with a jerk. Without intending to, she had taken several steps off of the sidewalk and towards the edge of the forest. She shook her head, slapped her cheeks, attempting to clear her mind and wake up.

She was so overtired she was starting to dream with her eyes open. That was the problem. There was no way she could have seen the forest as a good place to take a nap, no matter how pretty it was. Looking at it now… Shiori shivered. It was pretty, but most certainly damp and dark, and… something else. Something about the forest felt off to Shiori, not quite right.

And for some reason, she really, really wanted to go into it.

She couldn't understand it. It felt like the forest was pulling her towards it, compelling her to step across the threshold of tangled branches and twisting undergrowth, to become lost on its paths and learn all of its secret hollows. At the same time she felt completely repelled by the place, and that was even harder to understand. Shiori loved nature, taking the occasional hike when she could. She had never felt anything like the - the _revulsion_ she felt now. And there was nothing she could say was the cause of it, nothing she could point to and say 'This is why.' It was just there, battling the equally inexplicable draw.

Shiori stood there, uncertain, torn between two opposing drives for a full minute without moving. Finally, she stumbled back, taking a deep breath as her sneakers hit the concrete of the sidewalk. Its unyielding surface jolted her back to herself, back to reality.

Eyeing the forest as though it were some great, hungry beast waiting to devour her should she step too close, Shiori felt both relief and trepidation. She had picked up the trail again, there could be very little doubt of that. But did she still want to follow it?

Shiori had no doubt at all that whatever it was that had drawn her from her apartment in the city to this all but unknown village was the same thing that was pulling her to the forest. Now that she had broken the direct compulsion to walk into it, she felt the pull as the need to know, the same need to find out what had happened to her and how she could have forgotten. The desire to go into that forest was directly linked to finding that thing, that precious something whose absence left a devouring ache in her heart. If she wanted it back, if she wanted _herself_ back, she had to go in.

At the same time, she couldn't ignore the feeling that if she did go in, she would regret it. _You forgot once,_ it said. _There had to be a reason for that. Perhaps it's best to leave it all forgotten_.

Oddly, the voices at the edge of her mind that had acted as guide and goad were all but silent now. As though waiting to see what she would do, as though afraid they might startle her and she would flee like a deer, only the barest of sounds came from them, so quiet they could easily be mistaken for the wind. Curious, and perhaps the tiniest bit concerned despite herself, Shiori reached into her pocket and touched the fragment with a fingertip.

Whiteout.

For a minute, Shiori was completely blind, completely deaf, the breath all sucked out of her lungs, leaving her gasping. Before the world returned to her, one word came to her, clear and young, full of urgency.

" _Here."_

Shiori dragged air back into her body with shuddering breaths, stumbling just to remain on her feet and not fall to the concrete. She was dizzy, abruptly drenched in sweat though still chilled from the wind and the damp preceding a storm.

That had been the child's voice - and it was most certainly a _child's_ voice that had spoken to her. It had spoken more clearly, more insistently than it ever had before.

It wanted her to go into the forest.

Shiori wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Her hand, her entire body from head to foot was shaking. Perhaps she was a fool for trusting the child's voice. Out of all the ones she heard, it seemed to want no harm to come to her. It projected no hate or spite, and with no one else to turn to, Shiori had chosen to listen to it.

And now it wanted her to go into the forest.

Maybe she really was crazy. Maybe she should have stayed at home and seen a doctor, rather than gone chasing phantom whispers she heard in her head.

Trying to get a better bearing on where she was, she looked around herself. She had been so absorbed by the forest she hadn't noticed much more than the fact that she was at the edge of the village. In fact, she was standing at the doorsteps of those buildings she had seen before and thought were higher than a single story. She had been right about that, at least. All of the houses close to her were two stories, save the one immediately to her right, which was three stories. The three-story house was also fenced all around by a tall, concrete wall, over which Shiori could see the tops of a few manicured trees. Obviously this was the home of someone well to do, though she thought she could see more than a few loose shingles on the roof. A sign was tacked up on the wall right beside the gate. Still feeling a little unsteady, Shiori went to read it. Anything to give her a little more distance from the forest.

'Azakawa Village Museum.'

 _Not a home, then_ , Shiori thought, leaning to get a better look at the building through the gate. It had an almost forsaken look about it. It had clearly once been a building of great importance, perhaps even influence. It looked more like a mansion of some rich family than a publicly owned museum. But it also had the look of a place that hadn't been receiving the same level of care as it once had, or that it needed. In addition to the loose shingles, the outside paint was chipped and peeling. Many of the windows, especially those on the second and third floors, were dusty. The lawn needed mowing, and where there had once been ornamental gardens were overgrown weed beds.

Shiori frowned, sad to see such a place in such a state. She went up and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She frowned more deeply.

The paper at the gate said the museum closed at sundown - an odd time to close, rather than just having a set hour - but all of the windows were dark, and when Shiori tried the doorknob would not turn.

Shiori frowned. It was Monday, there were still several hours of light left, and yet the museum was closed. Was it closed for the season? Was it shut up permanently?

Shiori suspected that she was becoming used to urges that came from nowhere, but she wanted to go into the museum. If her summer had been spent in this village, then knowing a little history of the place might be helpful. In a village so small, if she had spent anything more than a day here, then she surely would have visited this place. Someone who worked here would remember her, right? They could give her some clue, even if it was just to point her in the next direction.

At least that was what she told herself, her justification for how badly she wanted to see the inside of the museum. Like the forest but without an accompanying sense of repulsion, Shiori felt drawn to the place. She _had_ to get inside; something important was in there.

Shiori cast a furtive look over her shoulder to see if anyone had come to the gate. Thankfully the wall would conceal her from almost every angle, so she only had to worry if someone came up the walkway or happened to be passing and looked in.

Squatting down in front of the door so that the knob and lock were at eye level, she put down her umbrella and took out a set of picks she had taken to carrying with her everywhere. Shiori had a bad habit of forgetting her apartment key, and after the third time of locking herself out and having to wait on the doorstep for Rin, her roommate had decided to teach her how to pick locks. How Rin knew was something she would never tell Shiori, but she was a good teacher, and Shiori always remembered to have her pick set in her backpack or purse - or pocket - when she left the apartment. Why she couldn't remember to do the same with her keys was one of life's little mysteries.

The lock was simple, even for Shiori's meager skill, and was turned within a minute. With a final glance behind herself, the girl slipped inside the darkened museum.

…

After nearly three hours inside a silent, empty and chilly museum, Shiori was ready to leave. She had found plenty of information on the village, most of it consisting of dull political records, including a few sheaves dealing with the building of the museum itself - apparently it had some historical significance, but she hadn't bothered to figure out what it was. She was sure she hadn't come to Azakawa over summer for some dank old building. Besides, there were hundreds of documents she could go through, and Shiori couldn't shake the feeling that she was running short on time. She had to pick and choose what she could investigate thoroughly.

So she had torn through all of the dry books on the first floor without reading any of them, then moved on to the second floor, where she found the displays. Displays of stones worked into pretty shapes and which glowed with a pale blue light, like a pilot fire. At first she had thought it was an effect set up with lights placed beneath the displays, but a close look revealed that no, the glow came from the stones themselves. Shiori lost a lot of her time in that room, staring at the stones, the 'night glowstones.' She almost recognized them. Something about them stirred something in her memory, but not enough to truly recall.

In another room, a child's playroom, there had been more of the glowstone set in a jar in a corner of the room like a protective talisman. There she had found a few children's books on a local legend known as the Kotori Obake. The Stealer of Children.

Shiori had shivered as she read the books, wondering who it was who would leave such gruesome things out for a bunch of kids to read. She had shivered, and like with the glowstones, she felt like she could almost remember something; something important. It was terribly frustrating, to feel that her memories were so close, that they could be hers again if she could just reach far enough…

Kotori Obake. Night glowstone. Azakawa Village. The forest. All of these things connected together, and also connected to her. Somehow.

With a new clue, 'Kotori Obake,' Shiori went back downstairs to browse the library a second time.

Even with the added lead, she found very little. Not much more than was in the storybooks was in the official records, and what was there was incomplete, spotty. She was about ready to leave when she noticed that the museum, converted from some bigwig's private home, still had some of the comforts of home, including a kitchen that had seen better days, and what looked like an occupied bedroom.

She felt a little weird trespassing into someone's personal space, but she had already gone so far as breaking and entering, so how much worse could it possibly be? Besides, the longer she remained in the museum, the creepier she felt. The sense of déjà vu was ten times worse in this building. Everything from how it smelled to the way the floorboards creaked in certain places to the black smoke stain over the kitchen stove, it all felt familiar to her. She had been here before, for whatever reason, but now the feeling of familiarity only made her want to flee.

Part of that probably came, at least partially, from the strengthening desire to go to the forest. Not faced with it physically, there was no sense of revulsion, and all Shiori was left with was the desire to enter, driven by the conviction that all she had come here for was somewhere under the trees.

Everything in her telling her to hurry, hurry, _hurry_ , Shiori had broken into the bedroom. It was fairly Spartan and offered very little in quantity, but it did offer something in quality. Two things, actually. One was an empty katana sheath set on a shelf. It seemed odd to find something like that, but Shiori was more forcibly struck with another thought - where was the sword?

The other thing she had found had been a stack of written memos. Shiori flipped through them idly, about ready to set them aside when she noticed something.

Her own name.

Among many 'normal' notes such as 'We're closed, please head home,' 'The displays are NOT to be touched,' and 'Go back,' were other memos; memos that chilled Shiori as she read them.

'I will take Shiori to the station. Don't worry. Leave it to me.'

'Everything will be as it was without Shiori.'

'Shiori won't remember anything.'

…What did it mean? Why would anyone write such things down on paper? Did this mean that whoever had written these notes had also been the one who… took her memory? How, and _why_? What had she done that she needed to have her memories stolen? What had she done to deserve that?

She felt dizzy. She needed to get away, to get out of this place. She needed… she needed to go to the forest. Yes. If anywhere was going to give her answers, it was there. It had been calling her, louder and louder since she had entered the museum. She would answer. She would go and find what she had come for.

On her way out of the building a gleam of pale pilot-light blue caught her eye. It was a smooth pendant of night glowstone, strung on a chain and resting on the reception desk.

Impulsively, Shiori snatched it up and slipped it in the pocket with the white fragment. She didn't know why she did it and didn't much care to dwell on it. Right now her thoughts were filled with the forest.

The forest was where she would learn everything.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Thanks for reading everyone, I'll see you next week!_


	5. Part V

_**A/N:**_ _Background, background, back_ _ **ground**_ _. :)_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part V

…

Sakuma walked along the roads between her school - the only school in Azakawa, preschool to high school grades all under one roof - and the museum, feeling grumpy.

There were plenty of reasons _to_ be grumpy in her opinion, so indulged in the feeling freely. There was no one else around to scold her for it, so why not?

School had been particularly irritating today. All of the teachers decided to be difficult about assignments on the same day, doling them out by the handful, each with what Sakuma felt to be unreasonable deadlines, and all with the attached promise that they would contribute to a significant percentage of their final grade for the year. It was unfair to start off with this kind of thing so early! No one had been given the opportunity to settle into the routine yet or to get familiar with the material, and already they were getting hit with major projects and, if rumor proved true, a veritable deluge of tests next week. In what reality was any of that even remotely fair? Stupid teachers.

She wasn't the only one who thought so, either. All of the students subjected to the faculty's sudden turn to academic sadism were upset, and as a way of relieving their frustration and balancing this injustice, they turned to the communal punching bag they always relied on in times like this: Sakuma.

Sakuma was popular in the sense that everyone knew who she was by name and by sight. Her family was prominent in the community, what might be considered influential or even powerful. Though in so small a village as Azakawa, Sakuma wasn't sure just how impressive that really was. The top ant of a colony was still an ant, after all. Regardless, her family was known, and Azakawa's size made it easy for everyone to recognize the Sakuma daughter. If that had been all there was to the little heiress of the ant colony, she might have ruled her school from her first preschool year all the way to final graduation, puffed so full of self-importance that when the time came for her to step out into the wide world and attend college, she would have been crushed down to the soles of her shoes to realize her true insignificance once beyond the borders of her tiny domain.

She was never in any real danger of such a circumstance, however. From that first year of preschool the children she was expected to befriend and share her childhood with had shunned her. Already intimidated a little by her fine clothes and the grown up way she spoke, potential friendships were further strained by how standoffish she was. Sakuma was an only child and already a little isolated at that age, and what was perceived as unfriendliness was really shyness, an uncertainty about how to interact with others. None saw the problem for what it was, however, and by the time any adults became aware of an issue, a wide gap had already formed between Sakuma and her classmates.

As time went on the gap grew wider, more impossible to cross or to close as the other children took notice of Sakuma's peculiar habits. She would be seen, when she thought no one was looking, talking to empty air. Her eyes would fix on a certain point and she would pause every now and again, as though listening to some reply, but no one else would be there. It was also noticed that rather than playing when they were allowed outside, Sakuma would spend a good portion of their breaks staring off into space, often towards the mountains that loomed around Azakawa. Her fate as the school freak was sealed when one day she was asked in class if she liked to visit the mountains. She had replied adamantly that no, she would not go to the mountains, because all sorts of bad spirits lived there.

From then on Sakuma was the regular target for teasing. Not just someone who was aggressively ignored, she became an object of ridicule. It only became worse when, with a child's innocence, she had insisted that not only did she believe in spirits, but she could _see_ them, too. There had been no hope for her to be anything but a victim of derision, then, and since the faces at their tiny school very rarely changed, the habit had carried over from year to year, from then until now. It was very likely to remain that way until she could escape to college, where no one knew her and she could start afresh. A new life, where no one knew anything about the Kotori Obake or what Sakuma could see in the shadows.

So yes, it was a relief to get out of school, away from the jerks who thought the best way to make themselves feel better was to make someone else feel worse. The weather was threatening enough that no one had bothered trying to follow her, either. Not that they ever did when she was heading to the museum after final bell. While she made a fine target for her strangeness, her classmates were still not quite up to dealing with the museum manager. He was still a little too much for their rather selective courage. Not that she could blame them. Suga could be… intimidating when he got annoyed.

And that was another source of irritation. As much as she preferred to go to the museum directly after school - it kept her from having to go home where things were strained most days - now it rankled, just a little bit. She liked to spend her time at the museum, getting lost in the history and the silence. Even the mute manager's presence acted as a kind of balm to her rankled spirits - though she would never admit as much out loud. But today and for the last couple days it annoyed her, and that was because now she was _expected_ to show up. It was an obligation, and _that_ was what really irked her.

She had agreed to take on the responsibility of watching over the museum for the week, but really, she hadn't had much choice in the matter, had she? How could she say no to the manager after what he had done for her?

She remembered when the manager had handed her the memo asking if she would be willing to be in charge of the museum while he went off somewhere for more glowstone. The 'acting manager,' as he had put it, as though the title would act as some sort of temptation. She remembered the way he had watched her in that unblinking, intense way he had on occasion, and she remembered the way the stones on her bracelet had clinked together when she moved her hand.

After staring at the memo for a minute, Sakuma had looked up at the waiting manager with a scowl. "You know it's pointless to ask when you know I owe you a favor - a lot of favors already."

The manager, in reply to her less than polite response to his request, had only raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

Still scowling, she had put down the memo and tossed her head. "It'll be more hassle than it's worth, and I'll no doubt mess it up, but fine. I can keep the place open after I get off of school."

The manager had given her a little smile and a second, already prepared note thanking her and saying that he would speak with her parents next.

Sometimes Sakuma got the uncomfortable impression that Suga could see right through her, and more than that, that he rather liked what he saw. Stupid manager.

Still, she was grateful to him, and did owe him a plethora of favors.

He had saved her life, which was enough by itself to count for a lot of favors in the future - perhaps for her entire life, since it was due to him that she was enjoying the privilege of being able to live it. But then he had gone and crafted a bracelet for her. It was more than a simple gift, he explained on giving it to her. The short chain strung with a dozen small night glowstones was for her protection. The Kotori Obake and the malevolent spirits were still out there, and Sakuma had been shown to be susceptible to their influence. The bracelet and its little gems of purifying light were meant to hold the evil at bay and keep Sakuma's mind her own.

And it was working. Since she had begun wearing it round her left wrist, a pressure she hadn't even realized was there had been lifted from her, body and mind. She was less tense, less tired, and suffered fewer headaches than before. If she had thought that perhaps it was coincidence, then the first time she had dared to take the bracelet off had cured her of the misconception. As soon as the stones were no longer on her person it felt as though she had stepped into a nest of writhing, oily serpents. The pressure had instantly clamped down around her skull, along with something she had never noticed before; a crawling, scrabbling something around the edges of her mind. Had that always been there? How had she never noticed it?

Sakuma never took off the bracelet now. Not for school, sleep or even bathing, she refused to risk letting those things back into her mind for an instant. So in addition to her life, she also owed the manager her sanity.

Though she had to ask him if there was a way to amplify or strengthen the effect of the stones. It seemed like whenever it rained, even with the bracelet on, she could feel the very beginnings of that scratching around her thoughts. It was getting worse each time, as well. She could already feel it today, and it hadn't even started raining, yet. The vague awareness she had of the spirits in the forest told her that they were restless. She could only assume it was the approaching storm that had them riled up. She hoped it was.

And to top off her ever-so-fine mood she had recently gone through a growth spurt and her shoes were too tight, and they hurt her feet. What had she done to deserve all of this?

Hurrying despite the pain it caused her toes to outrun the coming storm, Sakuma turned the corner around the front gate and was on the first step up to the door, keys in her hand, before she noticed that the door was already opening.

Sakuma came to abrupt stop, heart racing at the sight of a retreating intruder, a shout on the tip of her tongue… when the person turned around, and it felt like someone kicked her right in the gut.

"Onee-chan!"

The girl exiting the museum so furtively jerked her head up, eyes wide.

It _was_ Shiori. Kanzaki Shiori, heir to the mansion that had been converted into a museum, the manager's childhood friend and the Kotori Obake's chosen victim of years. It couldn't be anyone else - Sakuma would never forget that face. She had committed the girl's every feature to memory, often replayed their conversations in her head, complete with every one of the elder girl's expressions. And besides her own memories, those of the Kotori Obake wouldn't let her forget, either…

Except that Shiori shouldn't be back, she _couldn't_ be back, it was impossible! The manager had taken all of Onee-chan's memories, the way he had when they had been children, making her forget everything about the Kotori Obake and her promise, and _everything_ about Azakawa to keep her from ever coming back. It was for her protection; without the knowledge of the promise she had made with the child thief, the evil spirit could not act on it. Sakuma knew that, and knew that it was the best available option, however much she hated the idea of Onee-chan leaving and not even remembering her after she was gone.

If Shiori was back, did that mean that her memories had returned? Was she in danger already, was this why the spirits in the forest were so restless?

All of her previously warm thoughts for Suga fled in a rush.

 _That stupid manager!_ _He hasn't erased her memories properly and now Onee-chan is back and putting herself in danger again! Can't he do anything right?_

Sakuma blinked. Shiori hadn't moved from her 'deer frozen in the headlights' position, half in and half out of the door, as though she were considering the option to flee back inside. It made Sakuma take a longer look at the girl, and her heart sank to see how much she had changed, what form those changes had taken. She was pale, the kind of pale a person gets after they've been sick for a long time. Her brown hair was lank and lifeless, the skin under her eyes dark and bruised looking, which only highlighted how overly bright her eyes looked. Sakuma felt a physical pain in her chest at the sight of her, the bright young girl that had come to Azakawa not so long ago, looking like death warmed over. She even looked thinner than before, exhausted, only nervous energy keeping her on her feet.

Shiori was frowning at her, brows drawn low over her eyes. She swayed where she stood, the effort of focusing on Sakuma draining what little reserves she had.

"Onee… chan…?" Her voice was so weak, reedy and broken.

The question made Sakuma instantly retake the situation. Shiori didn't remember her - which hurt, but it _was_ a good thing - which might mean she also didn't remember Azakawa, the Kotori Obake, her promise, any of it. It was still possible that everything _hadn't_ come apart at the seams. She just had to figure out exactly how bad it was.

How bad the situation was, anyway. Shiori was quite obviously on the edge of total collapse.

Sakuma smiled and brought up a hand to her mouth like she was embarrassed. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought you were my sister, Amane. I work here and sometimes she checks on me." She bowed her head, hoping a good show of apology would make Shiori feel more confident. "I beg your pardon."

"…oh." It took a moment for Sakuma's explanation to process. "I see. Don't worry about it. It's… you work here?" The question held a note of incredulity, and Sakuma smiled as disarmingly as she could.

"Yes. Or rather, I'm filling in for someone. I just started a few days ago. It gives me something to do after school." She plucked at her uniform's green scarf with one hand as though self-conscious about her age.

Shiori followed the motion with her eyes, and if anything her posture only became more wary than it had been before. "Yes… I see."

Sakuma was confused. Why did Shiori look so frightened, so suspicious? More to the point, why did all of it look like it was directed at _her_ , specifically? Covering her own uncertainty, she put on her best 'acting manager' face. "My name is Sakuma Miyako. I am temporarily in charge of this museum. Was there…" she tilted in such a way to take in, pointedly, the open door Shiori was still standing in. "…anything I could help you with?"

The other girl glanced behind her, toward the shadowed interior of the museum. She either wasn't embarrassed by what she had done or she was too tired to express the emotion properly. "The door was open," she said dully.

Sakuma decided not to comment on the obvious lie. She wanted to know why Shiori was here, and being aggressive wouldn't help matters.

"I was looking for something. I thought I might have lost it here."

"Here? Well, we can take a look for it. It might be in lost and found. What is it, what does it look like?"

Shiori shook her head, which seemed like a dangerous move, considering how fragile she looked. "No, I- I've already looked through everything there's nothing. I should really get going, stop bothering you."

The older girl moved like she was going to push her way past Sakuma. She was like a trapped cat, looking for any kind of escape route.

She couldn't let Shiori go. If Onee-chan left and started wandering around, there was no telling what might happen, where she might go, who or what she might run into. There were very few people in the village that would recognize her, since last time she had spent nearly every minute inside the museum, but what if that raccoon councilman spotted her? He would recognize her, even with how she looked right now, and he knew she was heir to the museum. If he saw her he would definitely stop her, question her, and poor Onee-chan would have no idea what he was talking about. Worse, talking to him might jog some memory loose. It seemed very possible. Something was obviously already wrong with the erasure of her memories - she was here.

A storm was coming, and the spirits were working themselves into a frenzy. It wasn't safe for Onee-chan to be here, anywhere near Azakawa, and Sakuma couldn't take the risk that she would end up in the forest again. It had been her fault last time. She would protect her this time.

She stepped into Shiori's path, still smiling. "No, please don't go yet. The museum doesn't get many visitors, so most days I'm alone until it's time to close. It gets very boring, y'know? Besides," she looked Shiori deliberately up and down with a raised brow. "You look like you could use a little rest. Come back inside; keep a lonely girl company for a little while?"

Shiori hesitated. It was evident that she would rather _not_ stay, but the offer of rest seemed to tempt her. Sakuma wondered briefly how she had made it into town with no buses running. Did she walk the whole way from the station?

"I can make a mean cup of tea," she pressed mercilessly. "And I still have some cookies my mother made yesterday in my bag."

The last of Shiori's resistance melted away, and she nodded. Sakuma dropped off her school bag and her coat at the reception desk before leading the older girl to the kitchen. Shiori held on to her jacket and her umbrella like they were talismans, refusing to put them down even as she sat down at the kitchen table.

Sakuma wasn't used to playing hostess, despite being given that exact role as the acting manager, and was a little at a loss as to how to act when making tea for a guest. Bringing her into the kitchen was probably poor etiquette, especially since the kitchen showed some rather obvious and somewhat alarming signs of the manager's past cooking attempts. But Sakuma wanted to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't suddenly change her mind and disappear. Since they were in the same room, she was fairly certain she was meant to keep her guest pleasantly entertained. The kitchen, which smelled of past meals turned to charcoal, was ill-equipped for the task, and Sakuma ill-prepared to step up to the challenge.

She tried conversation, but what could she really talk about? How was one meant to speak to a person that didn't remember you and from whom all possibility of recollection must be kept? There must have been something safe to chat about with Shiori, but perversely all the came to mind were subjects all very clearly marked 'NO.' So she babbled nonsensically about her school and how dull the museum was as she gathered up cups, kettle, tea pot and tea. As she was filling the kettle in the sink it finally occurred to her to ask what she had lost and why she thought it was at the museum. It would save her having to come up with small talk and give her a better idea of what Shiori's memory was like.

Shiori's hesitant explanation - that she had recently vacationed here over break and was sure she had lost a memento while touring the museum - convinced her that the girl's memory was still at least mostly gone. She was relieved, but it made her wonder even more: how had she found her way back here?

One thing was for sure. Well, two things, actually. Shiori couldn't go out into the village with a storm on the way, but she couldn't stay _here_ , either. Shiori had to go home.

As the water began to heat on the stove, Sakuma excused herself, saying she needed to call her parents to reassure them that she had gotten to the museum safely and to retrieve the cookies from her bag. One of those statements was a little more honest than the other. She did get the cookies, and picked up the phone as well, but it wasn't her mother and father that she called.

…

Officer Mochizuki stared at her blankly. Sakuma had to resist the urge to roll her eyes or scoff at his dumb expression. Really, was the situation so impossible to understand, given some of their recent experiences to use as comparison.

"She's what?" the officer finally managed to get out.

Again, Sakuma resisted the urge to sigh. And adults were meant to be the reliable ones? What a joke! "I told you, Onee-chan- Shiori is back! She's right through there, in the kitchen, drinking tea."

The baffled look on the policeman's face didn't budge. "But… why? What is she doing here?"

"How am I supposed to know? I got here and she was already coming out of the mansion. She said she was looking for something she thinks she lost while on vacation here."

Mochizuki frowned, his eyes falling to the floor as he considered. The school girl bit her lip and let him think. Despite how frustrating he could be, Sakuma was glad that there was someone around who she could confide in, who she could turn to for support. She wasn't sure what she would have done if she had been completely on her own and this situation had cropped up. Mochizuki might be old and annoying and a little slow on the uptake… but at least she wasn't alone.

When he looked up again, Sakuma could see a difference in him. He had made the necessary mental adjustments and was ready to look at the situation with a mentality geared toward damage control. "Do you think she's remembered?"

Sakuma's teeth dug into her lip a little more. After a second's consideration she shook her head. "No. I think maybe she _feels_ something, but I don't think she _knows_ anything."

Mochizuki nodded, still frowning thoughtfully.

"It's still not good," she pointed out. "We should call the manager back. It's his fault she's here, he should be the one to fix it-"

"No."

Sakuma stopped, taken aback by the flat, abrupt response.

His face had darkened a little at the mention of the manager, his eyes fixing on her intently. "We can't call Suga-kun here. We can't tell him that Kanzaki-san was ever here if we can help it. He's… Sending her away, it hurt him deeply. If he sees her and has to do it _again_ it might kill him. We have to take care of this ourselves."

She nodded, not completely convinced but not willing to argue the point. Not with Shiori waiting in the next room. Their problem had to be dealt with as soon as could be managed. "What do you suggest, then?"

…

When the two of them walked into the kitchen together, Shiori was watching the door expectantly. Her teacup was drained and pushed away, along with half of one of the cookies Sakuma had pressed on her. She had changed seats so she was facing the hall they came down, her spine straight and holding her umbrella in her hands so tightly that all of her knuckles had gone white.

Mochizuki paused when he saw her, taking in her appearance. Sakuma could almost see him making the same comparison that she had made between this Shiori and the one they had met in summer, and thought she could make out the same worry it had elicited in her by the way his jaw tightened, how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Shiori watched silently as the uniformed officer approached her, her bright eyes looking far too large in her pale face. The lights of the kitchen only highlighted how unwell the girl looked, draining her of any remaining color and deepening the shadows of her eyes and her cheeks. Sakuma wondered how long it had been since she had eaten anything other than that half of a cookie. She wondered if Shiori had even tasted it.

Mochizuki stopped in front of her, removed his hat and held it in his gloved hands. Even from behind, Sakuma could see how hard he was trying to look stern and official, how much of a struggle it was when his usual look was awkward and gangling.

"Kanzaki Shiori?" he asked. His voice sounded professional, at least.

Shiori stared up at him for a moment, not even blinking, as though she didn't recognize her own name, or hadn't heard him speak. Finally, when Mochizuki was beginning to fidget, she said in a soft voice, "Yes?"

"I'm Officer Mochizuki Yousuke. I received a call from Sakuma-chan here that she found you exiting this building when it had been closed, with no staff within. Is this true?"

Another pause, then, "Yes. That's true." She still didn't question, didn't send Sakuma any betrayed looks, and didn't try to defend herself… It gave Sakuma the creeps. What was wrong with her? Was it right to send her away in this state?

"You entered the building," Mochizuki went on, "when it was in fact closed for business. And then you proceeded to search the premises for some lost item, correct?"

Shiori nodded, still unblinking.

The stare was having an effect on Mochizuki, who sounded less confident and composed than before, but still determined to finish what he had to say. "I'm afraid to tell you, miss, that you are guilty of trespassing on this establishment. This may be a small village, but we take such things seriously here."

Sakuma had to hold back a snort. _Well spoken, city boy!_

"Now, Sakuma-chan is just a fill-in here, and would rather that the owners didn't find out about this, that something like this happened while she was responsible for the place, so won't be pressing charges. I, personally, have recommended that she reconsider that decision." He sent her a look like he was frustrated with her 'stubbornness.' "But she is obstinate. You are free to go. _However_ , I don't feel completely at ease allowing a known trespasser free reign in my village. Therefore, in everyone's best interest, I will be escorting you to the nearest train station to see you on your way."

Feeling like a heel but determined to play her part, Sakuma piped up from behind Mochizuki. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

Shiori's oddly vacant gaze transferred from Mochizuki to her and back again, the girl remaining silent. Sakuma was glad when the older girl finally blinked. "Alright," she said, and stood unsteadily to her feet.

Moving very carefully, as though each step required thought, Shiori walked down the hall and back to the front door, not even glancing at Sakuma as she passed. Her spine was still straight, but her shoulders slumped forward, the death grip on her umbrella not loosening in the least. Officer Mochizuki followed close behind, his face carefully wiped clean of any expression. As he passed her, Mochizuki reached out to touch her forearm reassuringly.

When they were gone, Sakuma released a shaky breath, and sat down in one of the chairs. Who would have thought that having an unexpected guest would be like riding a roller coaster? She felt a little unsteady from the near miss, the disaster that could have so easily resulted, and not a little from the storm of emotions the sight of Onee-chan had stirred up. She had done well in ignoring it until Shiori was gone, in not really experiencing all of that as it was happening, and she suspected that she would have that particular 'pleasure' later in the day. Probably as she was trying to fall asleep.

She sighed, got up, and was beginning to clean up the small mess left by two people having tea, when the front door banged open again, nearly making her drop the cups.

"Sakuma-chan! _Sakuma-chan!_ "

Heart in mouth, the girl ran towards Mochizuki's voice. They nearly careened into each other in the hallway.

"What is it, what happened?"

"It's Kanzaki," he panted. "We were going to my patrol car when she just took off. She ran away before I could catch her." The pupils of his eyes were pinpricks in a sea of coffee brown. "She ran into the forest."

It was like someone dumped ice water over Sakuma. The breath was knocked out of her, and in the roaring silence of her ears she thought she could feel the _scritch-scratchings_ on the boundaries of her mind become more eager than before.

"What…?" she gasped. "How? How did you let that happen, you stupid-?"

The poor officer shook his head, covering his face with one hand. "I don't know, I don't know! She looked so out of it, I never expected her to be _able_ to take off like that. She made it to the woods and I… I just lost her."

"Well, we need to find her! Before something happens, we need to find Onee-chan and get her out of there-"

"Oh, no," Mochizuki caught her even as she began striding purposefully toward the reception and the door. She glared up at him questioningly. " _You_ aren't going out there," he said firmly - or as firmly as he could while still catching his breath. "The last thing we need is both of you lost. I'll go and find her and _you_ are going to stay as far away from the forest as possible."

Sakuma scowled at him fiercely. "And how are you going to stop me if you're out there looking, Mr. Policeman?"

"I'm taking you home, where your family can keep a close watch on you."

The girl almost growled. "Don't you think you should at least get the manager to help with this? I know what you said, but really, if she ends up dead it'll be a lot worse than if he just _sees_ her."

The officer shook his head. "We _can't_ , and not just because of what it would do to Suga-kun if we did. There's no _way_ to get him. He has no phone, and I don't know where to find him. I just know that..." he paled. "He's out there. In the forest."

Sakuma felt chills crawl up her arms. Of all the times, of all the places, why…? It was all like a horrible, recurring nightmare. The only thing missing was….

Sakuma was stopped, mid-thought. A sound came from outside, familiar and terrible. She tilted her head to listen, closed her eyes when she could no longer deny what it was.

Outside, it had begun to rain.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Ah, trouble. Also, writing background for characters is fun. :)_

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone!**_


	6. Part VI

_**A/N:**_ _Time for a Suga chapter!_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part VI

…

Blue light, cold and pure, reached out to chase away the shadows, to wrap itself around a ready mind and infuse the quick, darting thoughts with chilly peace. Like azure fog, it crept into every corner of the mind, enveloped all cognitive function until not a single thought could find another. Thoughts and memories became lost from each other, and it would be so easy to let them remain that way forever, wandering in the cool blue mists endlessly. Unless one possessed a touchstone of some kind, a lighthouse in the fog by which one could guide themselves back to where they belonged, that was exactly what would happen.

Suga was that lighthouse. His mind was the guiding light that led all of the lost and bewildered back to where they belonged. Except there were no lost thoughts, no wandering memories save a few of his own, and those were easy to guide back where they belonged. He was the only one here, and if he allowed himself to become lost, then there was no one else to guide the lighthouse back to a safe port.

Slowly, carefully, Suga extricated his mind from the night glowstone lying before him on the workbench. The world around him at once became clearer, sharper, and yet duller. Details became more defined without the softness of the 'mist' within the stones to obscure them, but without the cold purity of angles and prisms, the world seemed to lose something of its purpose. It was easier to see while having less focus.

The young man, fully himself and free of the stone's enticing depths, passed a hand over his eyes.

Everything ached. Since coming to this cave in the cliffs that served as his workshop he had been working almost nonstop, and it was beginning to show. From first step to the last, Suga was responsible for everything to do with the glowstones. From mining it from the mountain that clutched it jealously in its granite fist, to the shaping of it to forms suitable for specific tasks, to the fine cutting and polishing, to the final steps of prayer and ritual. He had to do all of it himself. Once there had been more than just the Ogami-san, more people to carry out the various tasks required to create the glowstone accessories. In fact that had been true fairly recently. But not anymore; now it was Suga alone to do it all from start to finish.

It was grueling, draining work. Even in the coolness of his cave, with only a few lamps to cast light and heat, he was often sweating. Even as he bent over the finicky but relatively physically undemanding pieces of work, he felt it in his hair, running down his back. In the four days since he had begun, Suga had only allowed himself a few hours of sleep, taken in small bouts when he could no longer focus sufficiently on his work. He ate when the hunger could no longer be ignored, or dizziness made the workshop tilt around him. There was no way to cook in the cave, even if Suga had felt adventurous enough to try, but he had a bag full of dry, ready to eat snacks. Unhealthy, but it was something.

The resultant exhaustion, combined with the intermittent mindlessness or intense concentration of his work put Suga into an almost Zen state of mind. He could just about lose himself in the work completely, each action becoming an end unto itself, in significance each one completely disassociated with the others, but all somehow fitting together like a beautiful puzzle to create an unexpected whole. It almost became a case of Suga not doing the work, but watching as it all came together under his hands.

It was relaxing in its way, the twenty hour days giving him a much needed reprieve from the drudgery of his life. Working with the stones from one day into the next, he could almost forget that he was Koutarou Suga.

Almost.

He couldn't ever really forget, could he? No, that had been the first real lesson old Keiichirou had given him: Never lose yourself in the stones. The temptation might become overwhelming at times, but the Ogami-san always came back. The Ogami-san was master of the stones, the shaper of their natures, not the other way around. It was the Ogami-san who knew the ways through the primitive prisms. It was they who could navigate their twisted, labyrinthine interiors and find their way back, minds intact. The Ogami-san effected change, but was not themselves affected.

That was the way things had always been, and the way they would have to remain. Suga would always be the one cursed with recollection when all he wanted was to forget. Forget the last decade of loneliness, forget a childhood full of mockery and loss, forget the horrors he had been forced to know, to see, and to commit with his hands.

He wondered if old Keiichirou would have thought of what Suga had done, of how he had chosen to harness the training given him as a horror. Or would he have looked at what his apprentice had done and felt some measure of… pride?

Certainly, when Suga had first thought to shape a blade from the glowstone he had thought himself immensely clever. To turn what had been a protective charm into a weapon - so far as Suga knew that had never been attempted before. It seemed so logical to him, to take the one thing that could be depended upon to drive back the evil of the forest and turn it to their advantage. With a weapon of glowstone, they- he might stand a chance of not just holding back the evil of the forest, but in destroying it.

Run away with his own cleverness, intoxicated by the idea that a curse of generations could all end by his hand, and not in decades or even years but within _weeks_ , Suga had fashioned his gently glowing blade.

It wasn't until he used it, cut through the first spirit of a child that he realized why, if any Ogami-san before him had thought of this, they had not gone through with it.

The spirits had already been suffering, he told himself later, when the stark truth of what he had done was staring him in the eye and the shaking began. What he had done was a mercy, a cleansing. He'd released the children from their never ending misery. It must have been torture, to be forever trapped in that state of wandering, pain and terror. Suga had freed them with his blade…

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't convince himself. The spectral screams of twice murdered children wouldn't let him. He hadn't freed the pathetic creatures; he had destroyed them utterly, past the point of either pain or redemption.

The voices of other children, those that had prodded and teased him as a child came back to haunt him. He may not have started out as a monster as they had called him, but he had certainly become one.

Every time he let his mind become one with the stones he felt the temptation old Keiichirou had warned him about. That seductive call to just let himself wander a little too deep into the azure mist, until every thought and memory were broken apart by the prisms and locked away. It taunted him, relief lying so close at hand and made all the worse by knowing that all it would take would be for him to _let go_.

Suga stared at the unfinished piece of night glowstone before him, at the pieces and shards littering his table. There were pebbles that could become beads, sharp slivers that could become needles, the broken shards that were almost knives, the chips that could almost be the fallen petals of some unearthly flower. He looked at it all and wondered just how terrible it would be to forget, to serve himself the same terrible gift he had given twice before to another.

He never will, though. He knows that as surely as he knows he will draw his next breath. If he forgot everything, then who would be there to guard the forest, to keep the spirits in check? He was the very last line of defense, and if he failed, then all would be lost.

What held him even more certainly than any general sense of obligation were the personal promises he had made over the years. There was very little Suga could look back on in his life that provided any realsense of stability. The promises made to him and that he had made to others comprised nearly every cornerstone of note. If he broke them simply because they no longer suited him, because he found them _inconvenient_ , then what would become of him? What would be the point of anything?

None. There would be no point to anything. Suga was the sum of his promises.

The promise he had made to old Keiichirou, to carry on what his line no longer could as the Ogami-san. The promise he had made to Shii-chan, to keep her safe no matter what it might cost himself… or her. The promise he had made himself, to endure and to repay all that had been given him - in blood and flesh if needed. These were what guided him, what gave him purpose and stability. These were what held him to the stones without succumbing to them.

He would continue the work. Azakawa needed him perhaps more than ever now. At the very edge of his senses he could feel the spirits, stirring like a disturbed ant colony, with the dark blot of the Kotori Obake at the center of it. Much more clearly, he felt the night glowstones, the silent sentinels set throughout the forest to keep the spirits trapped within, and they were groaning under the strain. Even as he worked frantically to construct their replacements, one after another degraded too far, cracked and dimmed, their protective light drained away to leave nothing but useless hunks of rock.

Suga pushed away from his workbench, rubbing at his eyes. Azakawa in need or not, the spirits restless or not, he needed a break or it would not matter whether he _let_ the stones have his mind. They would take it and he would be too weakened to resist. He needed a little food, a few minutes rest before he could continue the work…

He looked around the cave that was his workshop, his sanctuary from all the eyes of the village. Here he could work the stones without the morbid curiosity of his neighbors to interrupt him. It was spacious enough to accommodate all of the raw and partially processed stone he had, dry though it was raining outside, and free of any previous residents. Over the last few years Suga had slowly outfitted the cave with furniture: a table, a cupboard, his bench and chair. It looked a bit like a hermit's living room, now. The few lamps he had placed around, both electric and kerosene, illuminated the space well enough to see without straining. Though even without them, the soft light cast by some of the stones was enough to move around without tripping over anything.

One thing it did not have was a comfortable place to sleep. He had tried to set up a hammock in the cave, but nothing really worked to keep it hanging securely. The bolts he set into the walls were never so secure that they wouldn't eventually work free and dump him to the floor, and no free standing system he could devise was much better. He had thought of bringing in a futon, but while he cave was relatively dry, it wasn't dry enough to keep a futon from becoming moldy and ruined. Suga was down to camping equipment until he could build some sort of permanent solution.

He eyed his sleeping bag laid out on the hard rock floor of the cave, the material looking far too thin to keep the floor from stealing away his body heat. Exhaustion made to whole set up look much more comfortable than it actually was, but bruises were effective reminders to a flagging mind. Suga thought longingly of his bed, warm and soft and dry in the Kanzaki mansion. If ever he had thought of it as too small or too lonely, he took it back now. His bed was the epitome of luxury compared to this.

Thinking of the mansion - the museum - made Suga think of Sakuma. He wondered how she was handling things in his absence.

To anyone who was aware of the arrangement, it probably seemed strange that Suga had asked the Sakuma daughter to take charge of the museum. It seemed a little strange to Suga himself whenever he came to think about it, to entrust such a responsibility with someone so young. Those on the Village Council, already watching his every move with a pointed interest, must have seen it as yet another sign that he had no idea what he was doing when it came to running a museum. But closing the museum for an entire week, directly after making another appeal to the Council to hold off on plans to demolish it, would have been seen as an even worse sign.

And when he really got down to it, who else could he ask? Officer Mochizuki had his own duties to attend to. While Azakawa might not be a bustling urban center, it would be unreasonable to ask such a favor of him. Adding a careful check of the museum to his rounds was enough. Besides Mochizuki, the only one Suga could begin to consider a friend was… Sakuma Miyako. Every other person of the village ignored him, if not outright avoided him.

Sakuma was young and loud and somewhat flighty, but she wasn't the worst person for the job. She liked the museum, which was always a good start, and spent a good deal of her time there. For months on end she had come to hang out after school, away from family and classmates, and had gotten to know all of the displays and books almost as well as he. So, on the off chance the museum actually got a guest while he was gone, she would be able to give tours competently. She was defensive of the museum, not for the least of which because she was now aware that the building had once been Shii-chan's childhood home. No sneaky Councilmen would have a chance of getting by her or trying to undermine the museum while she was on watch. All things considered, Sakuma was probably the best possible person he could have asked.

And that was all without considering a small fact about Sakuma that Suga had long suspected and which had recently been proven true. It would be in the girl's best interest, and put his mind at rest to have her surrounded by as much night glowstone as possible. The Kotori Obake was clearly capable of invading the girl's mind, and the fewer opportunities were presented to her to do so, the better.

When he had sent the letter to her family to request that they allow the youngest Sakuma to watch the museum for a few hours each day while he was gone, he had foolishly thought that they would be pleased. He had thought the Sakuma family would be proud Miyako had been so honored, so singled out as to be trusted with a responsibility of this kind. The Sakuma household was about as venerable as was possible in Azakawa Village - now that the name 'Kanzaki' was no longer to be found - but distinctions were a little hard to come by. One such as Suga offered should have had them overjoyed at the opportunity to prove their daughter was accomplished and capable.

What Suga had failed to consider in his request was how _his_ reputation could affect the family's perception of it, and of any possible honor it might convey to Miyako. They weren't entirely sanguine about her habit of spending every day after school there as it was, they were a little hesitant to give their permission that she do so in a more official way. To endorse questionable behavior now would only make it difficult to revoke those permissions later.

If he had forgotten to consider the family's opinion of him and how that might influence a decision, though, then he had completely underestimated Miyako's influence within her own family. It seemed that in general she held more sway over her parents than they did her, and the old matriarch of the Sakuma family, Miyako's grandmother, was more inclined to look on the scheme favorably. Even with the aging lady's declining influence, between her and Miyako the rest of the family was either swayed or outvoted. The youngest Sakuma had been allowed the responsibility of acting manager for Azakawa Museum, despite the unanimous dislike of who she would be filling in for.

It seemed that was to forever be his fate, as well. To be the one who was mistrusted and despised wherever he went. From childhood the various names followed him: the motherless one, the Kotori Obake's son, the scary spirit killer, the repulsive child… No matter where he went, no one enjoyed his company, not his peers or the spirits of the forest. Even the Kotori Obake had rejected him. Had there been something about him that marked him as her eventual enemy, or was he just so twisted and unnatural that even a child killing monster of the forest couldn't bear him?

In all his life, the only ones who had ever shown Suga anything like acceptance had been the Kanzaki family. There had been his own father before he had died, but even there had been a certain… reservation. Suga had never been able to divine from where that had come from. As a child it had been hard to see beyond the simple fact that even his own father didn't seem to like him. The first reason he had latched on to was that it was through some fault of his own that his father was so distant. He was quiet and behaved well, but to a young boy there were only so many possibilities. When he grew a little older he began to think it was because he reminded his father of his mother. That he caused the elder Koutarou pain by his very presence and that was why he buried himself in work, why he encouraged his son to spend every available moment out of school at the Kanzaki Mansion, away from him. After so many years of training with old Keiichirou to become the Ogami-san, discovering the depths of his own powers, Suga thought he had a better understanding of why it was his father had been uncomfortable around him.

With no memories of his mother and very few of his father, the Kanzaki family had become his own, even before he had become an orphan. Old Keiichirou had always been happy to see him, a young boy in whom he recognized the beginnings of a talent he could help to cultivate and shape. Shiori's parents, Kenji-san and his wife, also saw that burgeoning ability and understood how it would make him stand apart from his peers, but who were much happier just to have a playmate for their daughter.

Suga smiled as he remembered the middle generation of the Kanzaki household. They had been so pleased that he was Shiori's friend; that _he_ would be friends with _her_ , rather than the other way around. As though Shiori would ever have trouble making friends! But they _had_ worried about that exact thing. The abilities Suga had been born with ran strong in the Kanzaki line. The problems that Suga faced every day, they worried would have to be faced by their daughter as well, and were only too pleased when Shiori made one good friend. Suga didn't think that Shiori would have ever faced the same challenges that he had, even if their peers came to understand the history and lineage of the Kanzaki family. She was strong and brash, and even as a child didn't care what others thought of her. She wasn't like Suga, who was given to brooding and more affected by external judgments. Shiori had her family at least to support her and accept her.

And Suga had Shiori.

He had Shii-chan and her family, who all accepted and welcomed him despite what he was - _because_ of what he was. Though Shii-chan had never seemed particularly aware of her family's legacy or of the particular traits her family possessed that made them suitable for the role of Ogami-san generation after generation. Suga suspected that her parents shielded her as much as possible, some misguided attempt to preserve her innocence, to give her as much of a normal life as they could. It hadn't stopped certain traits showing through, all the same. Her ability to sense the spirits had shown when they would play together and sometimes both see or hear a creature that was not mortal. Her matter-of-fact acceptance when she had been faced with something as impossible as the Kotori Obake. Her near blindness to anything out of the ordinary with Suga himself. She looked on him and accepted him not as something that was odd, but just as _Suga_. If there was something about him that wasn't like anyone else, it didn't make him strange or a freak, it was because he was _Suga_ , and of course there wasn't anyone else like him, because there was only _one_ Suga.

Even her parents and old Keiichirou, even they hadn't been able to offer _that_.

And now he was in danger of losing the museum, the Kanzaki family home, that old Keiichirou had entrusted to him on his death. If he lost it to the Council, he would lose all that was tied to it as well - the good memories of childhood, of old Keiichirou raising him, all of the history that had been gathered under its roof, his home. If he couldn't even be trusted with the responsibility of the mansion that old Keiichirou had decreed to him, then what of the responsibility of being the Ogami-san; could he be trusted with that?

What would he do if he lost the museum?

 _I could always live here_ , he thought as he settled as best he could into the less-than-comfortable sleeping bag. He could hole himself up in his cave, wander around the old mine systems that honeycombed the mountains and continue his guardianship from the edges of the forest.

Another smile, this one bitter, crossed his lips.

If he did that he would become something that the villagers truly feared, not just grew uncomfortable around. He would become something straight out of old stories: the strange man who lived all alone in a cave and never spoke, who performed strange rituals no one believed in anymore. He could imagine it all too clearly. It was a part that seemed tailor made for him - or for which he had been made to fit.

An old hermit, rarely seen, muttering voicelessly over rocks.

In the old days that kind of person might have been regarded as a wise man, or an ogre. Now he would be regarded as just an old homeless man, gone mad with loneliness. Suga was already considered fairly unbalanced now, so it wasn't too much of a stretch.

Actually, none of it was much of a stretch, or even much of a change. All that would really change would be his address, where he would get his food from, and how he would keep warm in winter. None would know or care what it was he did as the Ogami-san, or that it was all to protect them.

No, he corrected himself. Not to protect _them_. _They_ were incidental. What he did, he did it all to protect _her_.

As Suga finally allowed himself to drift to sleep, to catch the few minutes of rest he could afford, he acknowledged that there was one memory he could never give up, and a reason why he always found his way out of the stones with his mind intact. He could never give up the memory of Shii-chan's sweet, smiling face.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _So angsty, Suga._

 _It's interesting to think of how the glowstones actually work, and even more so with the Kanzaki family and their role as the Ogami-san. Going from what very little I can understand from the novels (which is_ _ **very**_ _little) I know I'm getting a lot of it wrong, but hey. Fanfiction. :)_

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone!**_


	7. Part VII

_**A/N:**_ _POV flip flop once again. We're used to this, right?_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part VII

…

She had been wrong. The roof of the forest did _not_ keep out the rain.

Shiori slowed down on what she _hoped_ was still the path, and tried to catch her breath. She had been running for what felt, in the great tradition of nightmares, like hours when it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Already tired, too tired for a cup of tea and half a cookie to even touch, she couldn't do any better than that. She didn't think the policeman, Mochizuki, had followed her in right away, but she had no doubts that he would be following her very soon. She had trespassed into the museum, and if she read the sign she had passed on the way into the forest she was trespassing now, as well. Was everything in this village forbidden?

Her breathing slowly returned to normal and Shiori straightened, taking stock of her surroundings. She had more to worry about than fresh-faced cops and breaking and entering charges, which was in itself a thought she had never hoped to have. She was in the forest, a forest she was unfamiliar with, which had somehow been beckoning to her since she had laid eyes on it, and she was alone, with no idea of where she was, where she should be going, if she _should_ be going anywhere, or really any idea of what she had gotten herself into. It was cold, the rain pelting down like it had a grudge against the earth and everything that walked on it, and it was already starting to get dark.

Shiori shivered a little, and went to the nearest tree to lean her back against it. She needed to stop and think. Well, what she _needed_ was a day of sleep, warmth, some food and at least a few hours alone inside her own skull, but she doubted that she would be getting any of that.

Whatever it was that had been pulling her into the forest had stopped, and not because she was finally under the trees. It had stopped before that. As she had walked outside like she was going to the policeman's patrol car she had been able to feel the difference. Whatever it had been that had nearly pulled her under the trees before she went into the museum ceased by the time she came out again. It seemed a little ironic that after the 'pull' or whatever it was had stopped, she had sprinted directly into the forest. Compulsion or not, she still felt there were answers hiding in here somewhere, and she had a cop to lose. A cop who was all too eager to get her out of town quickly and leave no record she had ever been there.

Shiori wasn't stupid. She was exhausted and confused, but not stupid, and there was something terribly wrong about the two people she had met since arriving in Azakawa.

She knew how she must look. And not just 'how she must look' in the sense of some strange out-of-towner caught in the act of fleeing the scene of a (minor) crime. She knew how she must look physically. If it was anywhere near to how she _felt_ , then she had to look absolutely insane, possibly even dangerous. It would be perfectly understandable for someone, especially a young girl on her own to be wary of her, for her call the police even if Shiori _hadn't_ broken into her place of work. Had the tables been turned then Shiori was sure that was how she would have handled the situation.

But the girl, Sakuma, hadn't be behaving quite right even for that. She hadn't looked nervous at Shiori's appearance but surprised, and worried. The closest she came to a proper response was to look alarmed, but even that had seemed off.

The girl recognized her, Shiori was certain of it. When she had called out 'Onee-chan' it hadn't been because she thought Shiori was her sister from behind. It was because she recognized Shiori, because she and Shiori had once known each other, and well enough to use the familiar terms of 'Onee-chan.' Had Shiori once called her 'Sakuma-chan' or even 'Miyako-chan'? What had that girl once been to her? How long had they known each other before Shiori's memories were taken? Was it possible that they had known each other even before the summer? Shiori thought of the wide blankness that was the very beginning of her life. Had Sakuma been a part of her childhood?

Were they really… _sisters_?

Shiori began to tremble so violently that even the tree couldn't hold her up. She sank to the damp ground, sitting into a relatively soft drift of pine needles.

Just how much of her life was missing? How many people had she lost, did she no longer recognize, but who could recognize her? What the _hell_ was going on?

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she had to clamp her jaws hard to keep down her tea.

When she no longer thought she was going to be sick, Shiori allowed herself the dubious comfort of crying, tears running silently down her cheeks. She wasn't normally one for crying. It never did any good and only left one open to teasing, though that had never happened to her. At least, she didn't _think_ it had. She couldn't remember. It was all too much, what was going on. She didn't understand any of it, and from the looks of things she was going to have to solve all of the riddles hanging around her on her own. Her experience with the very first people she had met in this village proved that, and she thought it best to extend that lesson of caution to anyone she might meet. Trust no one.

Sakuma Miyako, whoever she was, had recognized her. She had known that Shiori's memories were gone, that Shiori would not recognize _her_ , and had done her very best to make it seem as though they had just met. She had drawn Shiori back inside where she could keep tabs on her, and distracted her until backup could arrive. She was quick on her feet, and glib enough to steer alert - if exhausted - people to do what she wanted.

Sakuma knew Shiori, and Shiori suspected she might be the person responsible for taking her memories.

She had seen the bracelet on the girl's left wrist, the one that flashed and shone with pale blue light, made from the same 'night glowstone' as the pendant she had taken and slipped into her pocket. Was Sakuma the one who had made it? She said she was a temporary fill in for the museum, but who would trust a middle school kid with that kind of responsibility? And the way she had called in that cop, the way she had been able to steer him to do what she wanted with Shiori… there was more to Sakuma than appeared, more than a pretty smile and a red and green school uniform.

The cop had known her as well. That had been made painfully obvious by the few snatches of his and Sakuma's conversation that Shiori had managed to overhear. He knew as much about her as Sakuma, and was willing to do what it took to ensure that she didn't stick around to uncover any more clues. He hadn't even wanted a certain someone else to know that Shiori had come back.

'The manager,' Sakuma had said. The manager of the museum? The way she talked about him made him sound like the leader of the other two, or at least one whom they deferred decisions to. Apprehension warred with curiosity when Shiori considered this mystery person. How did a museum manager fit into an already unlikely cast of characters? Who was 'Suga'?

The rain, already coming down hard, redoubled its efforts. The thick cover of trees did much to lessen it, but in this deluge they might as well have not been there at all. Shiori unfolded her umbrella, covering herself as much as possible.

Her head hurt, and she didn't think it was all due to the day she had been having. It felt like something was pressing in on her from the outside, trying to get in, under her skin, into her mind. The whispering voices had quieted somewhat inside the museum, but out here in the rain, they were all much closer. Now she didn't even have the walls of her apartment to protect her, insufficient barrier they had seemed at the time. Now she had only her umbrella to keep her safe, its bright yellow canvas a pathetic defense against the encroaching darkness. The voices slipped beneath it, touching her ears with their damp breath.

She had seen things in this forest, in her mad flight to get as far from the museum and the pursuing police officer as she could. Things that she would have shrugged off before summer, thought a trick of the light or her own imagination. In her current state, anything she saw was subject to doubt - sleep deprivation led to hallucinations eventually, but she was more inclined to believe the evidence of her eyes. She was more willing to believe that the half-there, half-not forms she had seen were real, were following her, and that there was a very good reason to be terrified of them.

Shiori hugged her knees, clutching her yellow umbrella, and sniffled quietly in the downpour. Tears might not help, but they certainly couldn't make things any _worse_. She wanted, more than anything, to go home, but not the one that was waiting for her. Not the one with classes and a sink full of dishes and a roommate who was too patient for her own good. She wanted to go back to her _real_ home, the one she thought of whenever she thought of comfort, with her old familiar furniture, her worn out toys, her old books and fading posters. She wanted to go back to that place, when everything had made sense and the worst she could ever expect was a scolding from her parents for getting into another fight.

She wanted her parents back.

Eventually she ran out of tears, and the sky had not run out of rain. She was still alone in the forest, with no idea where she was meant to go, a mystery to solve, a policeman tracking her down and a vague feeling that somewhere, amongst the trees, the solution to it all was waiting for her.

Shiori wiped away the useless tears and pushed shakily to her feet. She may be lost and alone, but she wasn't completely helpless. She had somehow ended up in an impossible scenario in which things like linear thinking and logic did not apply. Fine. If that was how things worked now, she could play by those rules. It was time to be proactive.

Digging deep into a pocket, Shiori brought out two objects. One was the pendant and chain she had stolen from the museum, its cold light holding back the night. Shiori stared at it a moment, an odd sense of vertigo and nostalgia washing over her. She blinked, and looked over at the second object, the one she had meant to take out. The white fragment.

She might not have any idea what it was or why she had it, but whenever she held it, one voice cut through all the rest. It was the one voice that did not sound as though it wanted to eat her. In this situation, Shiori was willing to take whatever guidance she could get, even a child's disembodied voice.

Putting the pendant and chain around her neck - the light could help her to see in the darkness - Shiori held the milky fragment in the palm of her hand. Then she made a fist and concentrated on the one voice she wanted to hear.

It was frightening just how quickly that voice came to her once she began to listen for it.

It was clearer than ever, spun out of the pattering rain, surrounding her on all sides. If there had been any doubt that the voice belonged to a child, she had none now. Light and lilting, impossible to tell if it was male or female, there was a brightness and innocence in it that contrasted so sharply with all the voices that surrounded it, it almost seemed incongruous. But there was urgency as it spoke to her. It wanted her to move, to be on her feet and to follow it, _now_.

With the white piece in one hand and her yellow shield in the other, the glowing blue amulet about her throat, Shiori began walking deeper into the trees, following the voice of the child.

It was simpler to follow the child's guiding voice than she thought it would be. It surrounded her on all sides with the falling rain, but only one direction felt right when she faced it. Whenever she deviated even a little she was overwhelmed with a sense of wrong, and the child's voice would warble, a warning that she was straying.

As she progressed the child's voice became stronger, clearer, until she could just about make out individual words. Unfortunately, as the child's voice became clearer, so did others. Most notably, the deep, dark, female voice that cloyed inside her mind, making all it touched feel tainted. It was a voice that made her feel small, hunted, helpless, as though the speaker were right beside her, lips brushing against her ear as she murmured something about a promise.

With that voice pursuing her and the shadows crowding closer with every passing moment, Shiori hurried on, feet catching in the undergrowth as her vision failed, yellow umbrella striking branches as the path grew more tangled. She didn't really care _where_ it was the child was leading her, so long as it was away from that more sinister whisper.

She did not see the twisted, translucent shape, about the size of a six year old child, until she was practically on top of it. Not until it turned its terrible eyes on her and _reached_.

Shiori screamed, her voice swallowed in the rain with all the others, her bright yellow shield fluttering uselessly to the damp earth.

…

The rain was still falling, so hard and heavy now that it was practically a solid sheet of water beating against Sakuma's window.

The light was fading fast, but she could make out Azakawa Forest, and the hulking shape of the mountain still cut a clear shape out of the sky. She could see it all, and though she might not be able to see what was going on _inside_ the forest, she could _feel_ enough to know that the situation was only getting worse as time went on. In fact she probably had a more complete idea of what was happening than any of the people who were directly involved. It was infuriating.

From where she sat beside her bedroom window, safe in her own home behind walls of brick and mortar and with the glowstone bracelet firmly in place, Sakuma could still feel the evil stirring in the forest. She felt the all too familiar presence of the Kotori Obake, surrounded by her bevy of stolen children. She could sense the dead mother's agitation and excitement, could feel her searching, searching, searching for the cute, cute child whose promise she still held, the child that had escaped once and twice before, but not this time, no, never again…

Sakuma could feel as the old spirit reached out for _her_ , reached out to take her mind and use her body as she had done once before, and as she was repelled by the glowing ring of blessed stones at her wrist.

Sakuma held the bracelet close, as though doing so would protect her more. As though it could change what she sensed in the forest, while she was stuck, safe, in her home.

When Sakuma concentrated, straining her awareness to its farthest limit, she could sense the night glowstone.  
She could, very dimly, tell where it had been placed all around the forest. She could feel as those charms set against the evil inside strained under the building pressure, as the last of their power guttered, flared and went out. She could sense as the manager went from one to the next and either rejuvenated them or placed out replacements by the slow relighting of the forest's perimeter. Even now new lights were becoming known to her. It seemed so little, but they would help to keep what was stirring in the forest contained there.

All so useless! Sakuma scowled out her window furiously. It didn't matter if the spirits were all trapped in the forest, they weren't trying to leave! They had what they wanted right within easy reach, and it was only a matter of time before they found Shiori. Sakuma could sense the spirits much more clearly than the glowstones, and it was like a dark stain spreading on white linen. It wouldn't be long before they found their prey, and the prey didn't even know that there was a predator to avoid.

Remembering how strung out and on the edge of collapse Shiori had looked, and trying to imagine her in the forest now with all those spirits searching for her… Sakuma was amazed she hadn't been caught already.

Officer Mochizuki was out there too, but really, how much help was he going to be? He was a nice guy and all, but… he was a cop. He was hardly cut out to deal with what was in the forest, aware of them or not. It would be down to Suga to rescue her… and he had no idea that anything was wrong.

Three people in the forest, all separated from each other. One was avoiding being found, one was searching blind and one was completely oblivious to the other two. The last thing that mix needed was a fourth person to get into trouble…

Sakuma was on her feet and searching for her shoes, the new ones that didn't pinch her feet, before she could think of any really good reasons why she should stay home. 'Really good reasons' meaning any reasons that would actually stop her. It was undoubtedly a very, very bad plan to go out there… but she couldn't just sit here, aware of what was going on and unable to change any of it. She was probably the best equipped person out of the four, since she was at least aware of the other three and had her heightened senses, and she still had her bracelet. She would trust in those twelve little stones and her own skills to guide and protect her. She _would_ go out and help Onee-chan!

Racing time, Sakuma gathered up everything she needed to brave the weather and wandering dead.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Ah, the exciting possibilities of memory loss! And as much as I love writing Mochizuki, Sakuma's background and abilities are really interesting to me. I can see writing a few standalone adventures for her after everything is all settled down._

 _ **Thanks for reading, and until next week!**_

 _ **(Happy Halloween, everybody!)**_


	8. Part VIII

_**A/N:**_ _And we are now officially halfway through the story with this chapter! Woo! As a side note, this time last year I had just begun writing the first draft of this for NaNoWriMo, and was managing to get through an entire chapter a day. That didn't last long. I'm doing NaNo again this year, and as much as I would like to say that I'm writing a sequel to this, I'm not. Though I_ _do_ _have plans to do a few shorts in the same fic-canon I'm creating here. Thoughts?_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part VIII

…

The rain drummed down on all sides, offering a soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the measured chants in Suga's mind. He could not speak them aloud, but thankfully he didn't need to. The stones heard him, whether or not he had a voice to speak.

Slowly the shadows thinned as the glowstone under his hand came to life, throwing its light against the curtains of rain.

Suga smiled with grim satisfaction and stood to his feet, electric lantern in one hand, a new and relatively crude katana in the other, and a bag heavy with prepared glowstones slung across his back. He readjusted his grip on the katana's hilt, the wrappings rough and damp beneath his palm. He disliked holding one again, but it was a necessity while on this errand. For some reason the spirits were all incredibly restless, and it would not do to be caught without some means of defending himself. It would be difficult to swing his sword again with the memory of the slaughter he had wrought so fresh, but if it came to a point of defending his own life, Suga would act. He was prepared to act. The night was deepening, the rain heavy and cold, and faintly, on the very edge of his senses, he felt the Kotori Obake moving.

Any other time and Suga would not have been out on such a night. Darkness, rain and spiritual restlessness were a combination only a suicidal madman would dare to challenge in Azakawa Forest. It was a recipe for disaster, and Suga, as possibly the one _most_ aware of the danger, was the last one to expect abroad.

Except that the barrier around the forest was failing. Even more keenly than the agitation of the spirits, Suga felt the perimeter going dark, like an electric fence slowly going out. And like an electric fence, if it went out there would be nothing to keep the prisoners inside. Nothing save the guards, which in this case consisted of one person: Suga. He was the Ogami-san, but he would not be up to the task of holding back all of the spirits of the forest, to holding back the Kotori Obake by his own strength. He would be overwhelmed, and there was no one to take his place. No one in Azakawa would be safe and no one else beyond it…

So he was out in the driving rain, carefully treading familiar paths in the darkness, katana glowing weakly in one hand, reestablishing the perimeter. He had not had enough time to craft a good replacement for the first blade he had lost, as that would take more than a week to accomplish. More than that, though, Suga couldn't muster the same enthusiasm, the same pride in crafting this blade as he had the first. He was too aware now of what it was meant to carry out, and while he knew the necessity, he could not make the sword into a thing of beauty. It was enough to serve his purpose, and that was all.

As he made his way, wary eyes open, Suga wondered what it was that had gotten the spirits so riled. The rain could only account for so much, and thinking back he was sure that the restlessness had begun before the storm. Why were they kicking up a fuss? Was it because they knew that _he_ was in the forest and wanted to take some form of revenge out on him? The Kotori Obake, since the deal that had been made in his childhood, had shown a remarkable disinterest in him. It was only as an obstacle to what she truly desired that she ever acknowledged him at all. Since he was the Ogami-san and sworn to prevent her from getting what she wanted whenever he could, that still put him in her sights far more often than he would have liked, but just being in the forest wasn't normally enough to get her attention. He wondered if it was possible that the Kotori Obake held a greater grudge against him than she had before, as he had denied her Shii-chan's life. It was possible that now, rather than regarding him as a repellent but passive annoyance, he had become an enemy that she would go out of her way to kill.

In much the same way, he might have become a target to the hoard of spirit children that populated the forest. He frightened them, him and his glowing blade that shattered them apart. Before Shiori had come back to Azakawa he had never had much more than passing trouble with them, and after she left, he had expected even less from them than usual. If he had frightened them before, then by all rights he ought to terrify them now. Perhaps that was the problem. He had terrified them too much, and rather than cowing into a corner, now they were lashing out at him. It was possible; anything was possible. Suga had learned over the years that the frail logic of spirits tended toward the obsessive.

He gripped his hateful sword tighter, eyeing the damp shadows surrounding him on all sides.

There was also the possibility that both the Kotori Obake and the children spirits were just as dismissive of his presence as they had ever been, and that their increased activity had nothing to do with him at all. It could all be due to Shii-chan.

When Shii-chan had come back to Azakawa, Suga had felt a change in the forest. There had been an increase in activity then as well, during those days when Shii-chan had been staying at the museum to investigate her family. Even before she entered the forest, they had known she was near and had slowly worked themselves up into a frenzy until an opportunity presented itself - until an opportunity could be _arranged_ for Shii-chan to be drawn within their reach. When she left again it had taken a little time for things to settle, but they still weren't back to what would be considered 'normal.' What was happening right now might be no more than a temporary spike in activity brought on by weather and the changing seasons.

Another stone came into view, one of the huge, boulder-like hunks that had been put in place generations before, possibly one of the very first. This and the others like it were fairly crude and unrefined when compared to later works such as the pendants, charms and beads that were made to be worn. But then, night glowstone this size didn't need to be as refined as smaller pieces. If one wanted glowstone that was small and light enough to be worn by a child, yet powerful enough to drive off evil spirits, then it had to be a sophisticated piece of work. What the boulders lacked in refinement they made up for in raw power, and it went to show how well that served by how long they had lasted.

Even so, they were slowly fading away. It was a part of the Ogami-san's duties to go around, maintaining and rejuvenate the ancient stone, just as it was for them to replace any that had been spent beyond recovery with new ones. In all of the generations, only two of the original dozen boulders had deteriorated to that point. The Ogami-san had always managed to bring them back from the brink with their skills, and the boulders shone on.

The two that had darkened had both done so while Suga held the title of Ogami-san.

It wasn't any fault of Suga's. Old Keiichirou had assured him of that before he passed away. The glowstone boulders were tough, but they _were_ old, and it was inevitable that one day they would flicker out and die, their power spent. It was made all the more unavoidable by the fact that as each year passed, the stones were only put under more and more stress. They not only had to stand against the Kotori Obake, who was formidable enough, but the spirits of the children she took as well. Even with the Ogami-san, some children were always taken, and then their spirit was added to the growing throng around the mother, strengthening her and making things harder for those who held them back.

Suga set down the lamp and pressed his palm against the cold, damp surface of the rock, looking within for any sign that it still 'lived.'

Faintly, deep within, Suga felt a soft flickering. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to reawaken it. He wouldn't be able to stay long enough to do all that he should - there was too much to do in a short time, his own safety was in question, and even without spirits to consider he couldn't remain out in the rain for too long. Even with a hooded jacket, water was seeping in under his clothes and chilling him. If he wasn't careful, just being outside in the cold and damp would kill him before the Kotori Obake did.

With a final look to be certain that there was nothing creeping up on him and still keeping a grip on his sword, Suga allowed his mind to fall into the stone to begin the rejuvenation. It was so comparatively simple to the internal labyrinths he normally worked with that Suga was able to give all the focus required and still think of other things.

He supposed it was possible that the spirits of the forest were aware that the barriers were weakening, and weakening more than they had ever done before in Suga's memory. It was possible that after all that happened with Shii-chan they were taking the opportunity of deteriorating fences while they could. It would possibly be the best opportunity to break free they had ever had, while Suga was still recovering from the most recent battles. Suga was reasonably confident that any escape attempts would fail, but it would be a good explanation for recent behavior.

He couldn't help the rather morbid curiosity that had him wondering what _would_ happen if the Kotori Obake got loose. From what he was able to understand of legends and what old Keiichirou had been able to tell him, the Kotori Obake was already more or less restricted to the place of her death - to the forest, mountain, and village. If she broke through the boundaries put in place by generations of Ogami-san, what would she be capable of? Obviously the people of Azakawa would be in danger, as they had been before the Ogami-san had appeared, but would her influence still be as restricted as before?

There was no doubt in Suga's mind that the Kotori Obake would have the power to reach out to Shii-chan somehow. Even if in all other ways she were restricted to the mountain, the promise between them would give her all she needed to ensnare Shii-chan.

Suga would never allow that to happen. Not while he lived.

Beyond Shii-chan, though, there was no way of knowing just how far her influence would go. Along with all of the children and their spirits, she had been gathering power of her own over the years, the pain that had first perverted her spirit only twisting her further and further as time passed. There was probably very little of her that was still human, and without her humanity to hold her in check, the evil that stained her soul was free to spread and grow.

Whatever the reason for the current restlessness of the forest and its phantom inhabitants, and whatever the results might be should they be released, Suga's responsibilities were as clear and they had ever been: keep the village safe, and keep the spirits trapped in the forest. That duty would never change, and to that duty Suga could always turn and rely upon. Though he sometimes hated how his fate had become irrevocably twined with that of the Kotori Obake, there was some comfort to be taken from it. He would always have a purpose, and that purpose would always be clear.

Under the guidance of his mind, the boulder began to glow very gently. It bothered Suga that all he had time for was just enough so the stone's light could define the nearest trees and set the falling drops to flashing blue, but he _was_ restricted. He promised himself that he would return when he could and do a more complete job. It was still only a matter of time before this stone would be exhausted completely, but with care it could last another decade.

With another stone glowing, Suga took up his lamp and began his careful walk into the darkness, to the next guttering stone.

He stopped when something in the underbrush caught his eye, something that was far from a natural shape and which cast back a bright yellow glow when the light of his lantern hit it. He cautiously approached, katana ready. When he realized what it was, he thought he might have discovered the real reason why the spirits were agitated, and it was worse than he had thought.

It was a yellow umbrella, with what looked like a pattern of cheerful oranges printed on it, upside down in the bushes, its canopy half full of water.

If Suga had still possessed a voice, he would have groaned. Some fool had decided to come into the forest, and not only when it was raining, but when it was dark as well! If he lost the museum and the 'legend' to avoid the forest for the sake of the Kotori Obake faded, was this what he was going to be able to look forward to? Constantly rescuing daredevil simpletons from their own idiocy was not how he would prefer spending the last of his days. But then he wouldn't have much choice in the matter if they kept coming in. He could hardly leave them to their fates, could he?

The umbrella wasn't full of water yet, and it had been raining hard for some time, long enough for the umbrella to have been filled if it had been there more than an hour. Whoever had dropped it had done so recently, and would only have not taken the time to pick it up again in this downpour if they were unable to for some reason. Something had happened that made them drop the umbrella and leave in a hurry. Suga didn't think he had to guess what that something might be.

Suga eyed the umbrella critically. He wondered who among the villagers had decided to brave the forest, who had thought that an umbrella would be enough to protect them. Even if all they had to be concerned with was the rain, an umbrella was hardly adequate. Not that he was one to judge, he thought as a stray drop snuck under his collar and trailed down his chest.

The umbrella had been dropped recently. Suga didn't like the chances of whoever had lost it, but it was possible that they were still… well, alive, and fairly close by. If Suga acted quickly he might find them and get them out of the forest safely.

Suga dumped the rain water out of the umbrella, folded it and looped it securely across his back using the straps from his bag. Then, choosing what he thought was the most likely direction a fleeing person would go, lifted his lantern and proceeded as quickly as he was able in the dark.

…

Not for the first time, and he was quite certain it wouldn't be the last time, either, Mochizuki found himself wondering exactly what kind of storybook horror show he had stumbled into when he transferred from the city to Azakawa Village.

If he had known even half of the things he would have to deal with when he had requested the transfer - ghosts and missing children, magic crystals and murder, girls with hidden pasts and museum managers who tried to save the world - he would have reconsidered and stayed where the traffic jams were some of the worst headaches he had to look forward to. But no, he had to get a noble bug stuck in his ear. And where had it landed him? On some fool's errand tracking down a girl through a dark and stormy forest - classic storybook imagery - most likely surrounded by hungry spirits who would be all too happy to relieve him of any extraneous flesh he might care to give up.

Mochizuki liked to think that he was a reasonably brave person. He had never had to face down a madman with a gun or run into a burning building, but he _was_ a policeman. His mother would have him believe that just signing up for the job was an act of courage - while his father insisted that he was crazy for the exact same reason. He was ready to throw himself into harm's way if that was what it took to bring down the bad guys and save the innocent. It's what he had dreamed of as a kid and trained for as an adult. He was ready.

Still, it was a continuous battle to put one foot in front of the other in _this_ situation.

The rain had long ago soaked his hair and all of his clothes. The legs of his pants clung to him awkwardly and he was sure if he tried to run they would prove to be a hindrance. He was also sure that his shoes were slowly filling with water. Every step was like being barefoot in a puddle. Daylight had also long gone, leaving the small flashlight on Mochizuki's shoulder the only source of light and his continued exertions his only source of heat.

As he progressed further, one slow step at a time, he became increasingly conscious of the fact that despite living in Azakawa, he had no idea how to get around the forest. When he nearly took a nose dive into the mud as his foot caught on a protruding tree root, Mochizuki had to admit to himself that he had very little experience with forests in general. He'd been raised in the city, where the ground was even and gutters took away the rain before it had a chance to collect in more than shallow puddles. More to the point, he was used to there always being _some_ source of light, and to there being some kind of logic in the paths one could take.

But no, logic didn't seem to even rate a guest appearance in this place.

Take a look at him, for example. Logic, not to mention his own hard gained police training, would have him calling into the station for this. He would report that a young girl, approximately 5' 5", 140 pounds, brown hair and gray sweatshirt, obviously not a local and apparently disorientated, was lost in Azakawa Forest. Once the report was made, Dispatch would route the few other officers to join the search, and they would proceed systematically until she was found, checking in often with each other and with those on the outside to be sure she hadn't wandered out again. It would all be so organized, so rational…

But no, couldn't have any of that, could we? Even if Mochizuki could get through his report without mentioning the malicious ghosts roaming the forest and the fact that the girl was an amnesiac heiress to the Azakawa Museum - and he was fairly confident he could since he had done it once before - he still couldn't call in backup. Because if he did, what would happen? More people would be in the forest, more people would be in danger. And if the locals caught wind of the emergency and formed civilian search parties, then that would be still _more_ people who could fall victim to the ghosts. It was bad enough with three of them in here. There didn't need to be any more.

Mochizuki was just glad that he had convinced Sakuma-chan to stay home out of harm's way.

So instead of a nicely organized force out here searching, it was all on Mochizuki Yousuke, severely underequipped for the dark, rain, cold _or_ ghosts, keeping a firm grip on the stock of his pistol as he went.

He knew the gun would be useless against anything he might run into and that having it out and at the ready was probably his greatest departure from logic. Bullets would be ineffective against ghosts, that much he knew. Yet he couldn't stomach the thought of having it out of his hands. As useless as it was in this situation, he held on to it, its tiny shape between him and whatever lay ahead providing a disproportionate sense of comfort.

Outside of this storybook world, a real gun provided real protection - at least when handled properly. Here, ironically enough, it became something of a charm. Like one of those little bits of paper with calligraphy they sold at shrines to ward off evil or bad luck. Mochizuki had only ever thought of those bits of paper as ploys or at least things that just made the holder feel better, without actually enacting any real change in the world. Now holding on to his very real gun in a very unreal situation, he would have traded the firearm for one of those charms in a heartbeat.

His gun and his logic didn't fit in this place. They were little bits of reality that had strayed too far into a dream, pieces of a world that made sense wedged where they didn't belong. He wasn't like Suga-kun, who had been trained from a young age to accept this skewed reality, to work within it and even come out of trouble victorious. He wasn't like Kanzaki-san, whose entire family had been part and parcel to it all, and who, even though she had been forced to forget, still landed on her feet when thrown into the thick of the bizarre. He couldn't even measure up to Sakuma-chan in some ways, particularly in the way she so quickly adjusted to all of this and just kept moving, incorporating the new and the strange into her worldview with hardly a hesitation.

Thinking of the young girl, Mochizuki felt a stab of worry. Which was ridiculous, since all of his concern _should_ be spent on Kanzaki-san and Suga-kun, both alone in this forest and himself as well, not on the middle school student snug in her home.

Except he was; he was always worried about Sakuma-chan. He knew she had a rough time at school, though neither she nor her parents had made any formal complaints to the school to have that corrected. He knew from small clues the girl dropped in conversation and from observation that things at her home were also somewhat troubled, though there was no sign of anything to cause serious alarm. But a girl who, upon escaping a troubled atmosphere at school by spending the rest of the day alone in a museum with a mute manager she professed not even to like, rather than returning home to rest was a girl who had something she wanted to avoid.

He worried about her school life, her home life, and about _her_. There was no denying that what Sakuma had gone through over the summer had been traumatizing. Even if she hadn't been forced to do anything horrible at the time, being possessed by the Kotori Obake _had_ to have had an effect on her mind, left some mark on her psyche. When she had been lashed to the boulder…

Mochizuki had never seen so much blood at one time in his life, not even at the one car wreck he had been on the scene of in the city. Sakuma-chan had been so pale, so limp, surrounded by what looked like pitchers of her own blood spattered across the rock, pooling on the ground. At first Mochizuki had thought she was dead.

All of that was bound to leave its mark on the young girl.

And yet she still strode about, eyes flashing and chin held high as she had before, as though nothing had happened. Oh, she acknowledged it, but she wouldn't allow that it had affected her at all. From Mochizuki's training on the force, he recognized the signs of denial running strong in her. Not denial of what happened, but that the events had touched her in any significant way. She was burying the difficult emotions deep where she wouldn't have to deal with them, and put on the same brave mask she always did.

Mochizuki worried that one day her mask would crack, and that when it did she wouldn't be prepared to cope with all she had hidden from herself.

There wasn't much he could he do for her. The best he could do was to promise himself to never let her go through anything similar again, and that if the time came and the mask fell away, that he would be the best friend he could possibly be to her. It was the least he could do, and he was afraid it might also be the most.

The entirely insufficient beam of his flashlight cutting through the night, Mochizuki wished he had thought to ask Suga-kun to fashion him some night glowstone bullets. Then, perhaps, he wouldn't feel so terribly ill-prepared.

Soaked and increasingly lost, Mochizuki continued his search.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Poor Mochizuki. Still love writing him, and his attitudes towards Sakuma. :)_

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone!**_


	9. Part IX

_**A/N:**_ _It's time to get some of these crazy kids back together._

 _As a side note I believe I've gone entirely insane for this year's NaNoWriMo. 100,000 word goal in 30 days… all by hand. 8D_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part IX

…

As the very last few rays of the sun fled the forest not even the most skilled nocturnal creature could have made their way through the trees without stumbling. The moon and stars were completely choked by thick storm clouds, and the rain only seemed to bring more darkness with it, dragging tendrils of night with each drop, spinning the world in a cocoon of shadows.

Through the confusing, confounding web there came a single star, earthbound and lost, searching for some way- any way back up to the sky with its brothers and sisters, past that choking roof of cloud.

Attached to the star, or perhaps the other way around, was a girl. Pale, soaked, mud stained and scratched from multiple tumbles to the ground, she crashed through the forest, trailing after the star at her throat, guided by its weak light. Her eyes were wide and darting, attempting to see everything when the darkness prevented her from seeing anything, her breath a series of short, painful gasps, her whole body shivering as she ran.

Shiori no longer had the slightest clue of where she was, not even of which way to go if she wanted to get back to the museum, which seemed more and more like the wisest course. She had lost the paths long ago and was now stumbling through the trees themselves, tripping over roots, running into branches, her hands covered with scrapes and cuts…

But she couldn't stop, not even if she wanted to. She had to keep moving, because if she stopped, then _they_ , those _things_ that were chasing her, they would find her. She didn't know what they were, or what they might once have been, and she didn't much care. All she needed to know was that she had to get _away_.

This was proving to be something of a challenge.

Just moving through the forest was difficult enough. With no idea where she was putting her feet or what was more than a foot in front of her at most, running through the trees was an exercise in faith, which only seemed to be getting her more turned around. She couldn't see, and had no mental map of the place to even try to use as a guide, so she was relying on her hearing and the almost-hearing that gave her the whispers of ghostly voices.

There were still whispers. There were so many of them now that they practically drowned out the rain, her own panicked breathing. A multitude was crammed inside her head, pulling her this way, pushing her that, making her sprint away when they seemed too near or drawing her close. In her confusion it only seemed natural that some of the voices belonged to the _things_ she had seen, and she shuddered to think that they had been with her so long. So she ran, though they seemed to come at her from all sides, and she was never sure when they were on her heels or far away, never quite sure if by each of her turns she was running away or towards them.

But she couldn't stop running. If she stopped then there would be no doubt that she would be caught, and then-

And then her mind blanked out, refusing to consider what would happen if 'and then' ever came.

One voice in particular Shiori fled from. The dark one of a woman that clawed at the inside of her skull, that murmured and cooed so soothingly, telling her she was a sweet child, a good child for coming back, that everything would be all better now, and she only wanted and waited for Shiori to come and be held in her arms…

The words were kind, inviting, meant to soothe her frazzled nerves, but that voice made Shiori's guts turn to ice. Whatever was on the other end of that voice, Shiori did not want to meet it. Somehow she knew that as bad as the 'smaller' voices were, and as dreadful as the creatures they belonged to were, this one would be so much worse.

Somewhere in her flight, Shiori began to wonder if she was really awake, or if this was all a part of some dream. A feverish nightmare brought on by stress at school, the loss of her parents and far too many nights without sleep. It certainly bore all the hallmarks of a nightmare, and very little to what Shiori had known as reality her whole life. Everything began to feel so distant; the stinging of her palms, the stitch in her side, the bruises on her legs and forearms, the clinging cold that was slowly sapping away all of her warmth. It was like she was watching it all happen from a distance while somehow still being aware of how it felt.

The voices that alternately pursued and beckoned began to mix with her own mental voice, with bits and flashes of her own memory, until where one stopped and the next began were impossible to tell apart. Why she was here was uncertain. Was it because she was looking for something, or was she looking for some _one_? Had she been here before, was someone waiting for her? The words in the book, 'Kotori Obake,' they meant something. Was it the Kotori Obake that waited for her? Should she go where she called? The white fragment clutched in one hand, its edges digging into the skin of her palm, that was from here as well, and it spoke to her…

It spoke to her with a child's voice, and Shiori still trusted that voice. That voice out of any of the others she trusted, though she had no reason to. She didn't know why, but she couldn't think of any reason to keep herself away from it. She followed, as best as she was able, as it led her away from the others.

Hours, days, weeks later, a light came into view ahead. In the darkness that had been around her so long it felt like it had embedded itself into her skin, it was like the rising of the sun. Shiori gravitated toward it without regard to what the whispers were saying. She didn't care what they were saying, where they wanted her to go, not if that light could take her out of the nightmare and back into the waking world. If that light could make all of this go away, and all she would have to worry about was exams, dishes and OCD roommates then she would run straight over the monsters to reach it.

She stumbled toward it, tried calling out but no sound would come. She tried again and only managed a choked kind of moan through her panting. The light dimmed, began to move away, and Shiori's heart tripled its already quick rate.

"Wait!" she tried to shout, but it came out only a whisper, lost among all the others and the rain. Limbs trembling, ready to give away when escape was so near, Shiori threw herself forward, through the trees.

The trees suddenly seemed to fall away, leaving only open space and nothing to support her. She began to fall again as the light swung towards her-

The fall stopped abruptly, but was not stopped by the muddy ground, as were all the falls before. Shiori was still mostly standing, the ground far away. Whatever had stopped her was holding her up, a hard narrow something across her chest. Shiori blinked, trying to understand, and then blinked again when brightness flooded around her.

"Kanzaki-san!" a voice said. It sounded surprised and relieved, and familiar as well. Shiori wondered at that. Why would a voice sound familiar in this place? She didn't know anyone here, or didn't know she knew anyone here, so she couldn't be remembering…

With far too much effort, Shiori lifted her head, trying to see what had hold of her.

Someone had their arm across her chest, keeping her from collapsing to the ground. She lifted her head up further, following the arm to a body, then from there to where a face ought to be. The light came from somewhere near the face, obscuring the features and making her squint.

"Kanzaki-san," the voice-in-light said, and the outline of the face moved in time with the words. "Are you alright? Kanzaki-san!"

"Oh," she said, finally putting a name and identity to the voice, able to make out just enough of the face to complete the picture. "M… Mochizuki." Speaking was hard for some reason; her jaw and her tongue didn't want to move.

For a moment the policeman didn't answer her, but seemed to be looking her over. Shiori tried to straighten up, so Officer Mochizuki wasn't holding her weight, but her legs refused to cooperate. She didn't want to lean on Mochizuki, it wasn't polite, and he was pressing her dripping clothes against her skin. She didn't think she could get much colder, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

Something scalding touched her cheek and she twitched backwards. It was Mochizuki's hand, the glove removed, cupping her face, touching her forehead. Why was his hand so hot, did the gloves keep them that warm?

"Kanzaki-san, how are you feeling? Do you know where you are?"

Shiori shook her head, not sure if she was answering his question as she did so or not. "Not right," she murmured. "Sh… shouldn't kn-know my n-name." She realized that part of the reason Mochizuki's arm was so uncomfortable was because of how violently she was shivering against it.

Officer Mochizuki either didn't hear what she said or simply didn't understand it. Shiori couldn't blame him either way. Even to her own ears her words were slurred and difficult to make out. How was a poor lost little cop meant to figure it out?

The world shifted a little, the arm around her was taken away and replaced with too-hot hands at her shoulders. Mochizuki's face swam in her vision, the bright circle and beam of the flashlight aimed somewhere over her shoulder. In its little halo Shiori could make out the worry in the officer's face, his eyes intent on her, a small line between his furrowed brows.

"Kanzaki-san," he said, and something was wrong when he said it. He was speaking loud and slow, like she couldn't understand him. "We need to get out of here, alright? Do you understand? We need to leave the forest. Do you think you can do that?"

Leave the forest. Yes, that was a good thing to do, wasn't it? In the forest were voices and _things_ and Kotori Obake. The nightmares had become impatient waiting for her to come to them and had come to life, reaching from the shadows with bones and branches to drag her back in. Leaving was… good. There had been a reason for coming here, but whatever it had been escaped her now. Surely it would be better to get away. Even Mochizuki said so, and he should know. He was the police, after all. She nodded, forced a word through jaws that were less and less willing to unclench. "Sure."

Mochizuki nodded, his face smoothing. Carefully he removed his hands from her, as though afraid she would fall over without his support. So was she for a minute, but she managed to keep her balance. Hands free, the young officer removed the flashlight from the shoulder strap holding it to his jacket, then his jacket as well. Shiori frowned, thinking it was rather silly of him to do that when it was still raining. But then, his shirt already looked soaked underneath the jacket, so maybe it didn't matter.

Once free of the jacket, he put it around her shoulders. It was heavy with rainwater and didn't make her feel any warmer or safer from the rain, but it was a nice gesture. She left it on. The officer hooked one of her arms over his shoulders, then one of his own around her waist. He had to crouch a little make it work, but once in place Shiori was fully supported and, being careful not to trip each other as they did so, they could walk, Mochizuki holding his flashlight with his free hand. Arranged and ready to go, they began to walk, Mochizuki leading the way.

As they went, she wondered if Mochizuki could hear the whispers through the rain. It seemed almost impossible that he could not. They pressed so closely on all sides, forcing themselves on them as they went, some coming so near she feared those who made them would appear on the path, some clear enough to be understood - those Shiori wished especially she could not hear.

If Mochizuki also heard them he gave no sign. He didn't react to anything they said, any nearness or any kind of beckoning they gave. He seemed deaf even to the dark voice. He just plodded on, flashlight trained ahead, half guiding, half carrying Shiori as they went.

It was nice to not have to think, for someone else to be the one deciding which way they went. Shiori was so _very_ tired… Her vision dimmed, and she didn't realize until it went black completely that her eyes had drifted closed.

They came to an abrupt stop, jostling Shiori and forcing her eyes open. She didn't know how long they had been closed, and in the beam of the flashlight the forest looked just the same. Nothing had changed.

Shiori looked over at Officer Mochizuki. He was studying the trees with a frown, eyes scanning back and forth. "Where… are we going?" she asked, trying to focus.

"Back to the village," he said, and there was strain underlying the determined statement. In the dark, Shiori thought she could see him frowning. "It's just- it's hard to recognize anything here. No road signs, all the landmarks are 'tree'…" He trailed off, biting his lip.

It occurred suddenly to Shiori that rather than escaping, they were only becoming more lost. Her rescue was in need of rescue himself, and the only real advantage now over a few minute ago - or was it hours? - was that she wasn't all alone. Given the circumstances, that was more comforting than it should have been. If she hadn't been so tired, she might have laughed.

Mochizuki shifted a little, shrugging her up higher on his shoulder. "C'mon," he said, a more determined note in his voice that seemed terribly out of place. "Standing still does us no good. We have to get you somewhere dry and warm."

"You, too," Shiori managed.

They began to move again, but Shiori was more awake now, and dug in her heels, stopping Mochizuki. "Not that way."

The cop's barely visible face looked confused when it turned to her. "Why not? Do you know where we are?"

She shook her head, the motion making it feel as though her whole head would come free and float away. The whispers were sharpening. Even as her perception of the world in general warped and she became increasingly uncertain whether or not what she experienced was real or the makings of a muddled nightmare, she was able to pinpoint the voices with greater clarity. She could tell from which direction they came. In the direction that Mochizuki wanted to go was what sounded like a nest of them. Close and aware of the cop and girl standing so near, but they would only act if they stepped _too_ near.

The word 'triplets' came to her mind without Shiori understanding in the least why.

They couldn't go that way. Not if they ever wanted to leave the forest. But how was she supposed to explain that to Mochizuki? She barely understood it herself, and cops always wanted reasonable, logical reasons for everything. That was something she just did not have.

She shook her head again, wishing it would clear. "No. That's… a bad way."

The policeman paused, looking in the direction he had intended to take them. Shiori was sure he was going to continue that way anyway. With such a weak excuse why they should not, why wouldn't he? He probably had a much better idea of where they were, even if he was turned around at the moment, and if he thought that was the way back to Azakawa…

He nodded, surprising Shiori. "Alright, we'll go another way." He seemed to consider, then nodded to their right. "What about that way?"

Even more surprised that he would ask her opinion, Shiori looked. None of the whispers seemed to come from there, at least at the moment. She gave it the all clear and they continued on.

The two of them proceeded through the forest in that manner for some time. Mochizuki stopping every once in a while to ask if the way they were going was right or if they ought to alter their path. Whenever they came to a place when they had to choose between paths, the officer always asked her before choosing. After a while of this, he asked if she thought she could take the flashlight to light their way. When she did, he took his gun out of his holster.

The sight of the firearm alarmed her for two reasons. The first was the most obvious - concern for her safety when alone in the woods with a stranger holding a gun, never mind what uniform he happened to be wearing. But when it became clear that he had drawn it because he was concerned about what might be out in the trees - his eyes never ceasing their scanning of the darkness - Shiori's concern shifted. What was there out in the forest that a policeman would be afraid of? Was there something out here, besides whispers and monsters that she should have been running from, or was Mochizuki aware of the voices as well?

Neither option was particularly comforting.

Her question was soon answered, the answer stepping out of the shadows in front of them.

It wasn't like the _things_ that Shiori had run into before. Those had been twisted images of flesh and bone. Things that stared with bloody eyes and screaming mouths, and reached out with hands that had twisted and crooked into something horrible. Those _things_ were the stuff of nightmares crawling about the world searching for dreamers to consume. _This_ … this was a vision of gentle light.

And it was a light that Officer Mochizuki could see as well. He instantly stopped in his tracks, the gun in his hand swung around and trained on the vision.

It was small, the height of a very young child and had a human shape, but where there should have been a face there was nothing. No features, only smooth skin, lightly contoured where features ought to be. The figure glowed softly, not enough to cast light on the trees around it, but enough to make out the child-like shape without need of Mochizuki's flashlight.

The vision did not react to the gun.

Shiori stared at it. It didn't frighten her, though she knew it ought. Monsters and voices and now ghosts, she ought to be terrified out of her mind, but she wasn't. It might have been that she had finally run out of fear, but she doubted it. It just didn't feel as though she should be afraid of this, this child ghost. In fact… She stared at it harder, trying to make out more of its form. She thought - there was something about it that almost seemed… familiar?

They stood frozen, the three of them, in that macabre tableau as the rain continued to beat down on them. Officer Mochizuki, beginning to tremble from the exertion of carrying Shiori halfway around the forest, pointing his gun at a figure that might not even be there and saying nothing. Shiori, soaked and shivering through all of her layers, the flashlight's beam allowed to fall between her feet, staring blankly at the child and trying to figure out why she would remember something like it. The child ghost didn't move at all, and with no features there was no expression to read.

It was like a scene from a play, Shiori thought. One of those climactic moments when all you had been led to assume up to that point was turned on its ear.

Finally the frozen moment was broken. The child ghost moved, a tiny tilt of its head which made Mochizuki twitch, his gun re-centering on it. The figure seemed to be ignoring Mochizuki completely, though it had no face, Shiori thought it was looking at her.

" _You've forgotten again."_ Its voice carried a quiet echo. Like the figure itself, it sounded familiar, but more definitely so, as of a recent memory. _"You don't remember the promise, and that's good. But you don't remember the other promise, or anything else, and that's not."_

Mochizuki's arm tightened around her until it began to hurt, but that wasn't why that it was suddenly so hard for Shiori to breathe. She had never mentioned to anyone that there was a gap in her memories, that the majority of her summer was a wide gulf of nothingness in her mind, not to anyone. She hadn't even mentioned it to Rin, who probably had the most right to know out of anyone, since she was the one dealing with the most fallout from it all. She certainly hadn't mentioned it since coming to Azakawa. And yet this child, ghost or not, knew.

The vague but persistent fear that she was going insane had never left her. Hearing voices, having a strong but inexplicable need to travel out to the middle of nowhere, breaking into a museum, seeing enemies everywhere, running off into the woods, it could all be explained so simply by her having come unhinged. Even her perception that Mochizuki and the girl Sakuma knew more than they were letting on could be explained by madness.

But someone else out there knew about her lost memories. It would have been nice if the corroboration had come from someone who was undoubtedly alive, but the fact that Officer Mochizuki could see and hear the ghost reassured her. What reassured her even more was the child's use of the word 'again.' 'Again' meant that she had lost her memories before. Did the ghost mean the blankness of her childhood? Was there a chance she could get her memories back?

Was there a chance she could get that thing, that precious thing back?

" _You've forgotten again."_

Shiori nodded. "Yes. Yes- I have." It came out a whisper, but the ghost seemed to hear her just fine.

" _You have to remember."_

The treacherous prickling of tears came to her eyes again. She wanted to remember! But how was she supposed to remember when all the clues just led her to this place and stopped? All she had found since coming to Azakawa was déjà vu and terror, people and places she thought she should remember, who she thought probably remembered her, and _things_ that chased her through the forest like a pack of hungry wolves. How was she supposed to remember anything?

"I can't," Shiori choked out, past the tears she wouldn't allow to fall. "I can't remember. Please- what happened to me, why are my memories gone?"

Mochizuki twitched beside her. "Kanzaki-san-"

" _You wanted to save him,"_ the ghost said, ignoring the policeman as though he were not there. _"You wanted to save him long ago and again. To protect him. He wanted to protect you as well, but…"_ The ghost trailed away for a moment. _"You have to remember."_

"You're the one who was calling me," Shiori said, suddenly realizing why it was that the voice was so familiar. It was the one kind whisper fluttering around her ears, the one that always seemed so much closer when she held the white fragment in her hand. "You brought me here."

The figure, indistinct as it was, nodded. _"I can help,"_ it said, and its voice began to sound fainter than before. _"I can help to save him, save you, your memory. Then… you can save her."_

There were so many questions Shiori wanted to ask, not the least of which being who 'he' was that she had wanted to protect, and who had wanted to protect her. From the looks of things, neither of them had been particularly successful. She also wanted to know who the 'her' was that she was meant to save, and how she was expected to save anyone when she could barely stand on her own.

No question that occurred to her seemed to really matter in the face of what the ghost was promising her: the return of her memories. With her memories back the rest would fall in place, she was certain. All of the mystery would be solved if she could just _remember_.

It was her whole reason for coming, to know what had happened. That trumped all other considerations. She nodded again.

"Yes. If you can help me, then I will help you."

"Kanzaki!"

For all the attention the shout gained him, Mochizuki might as well have been the ghost.

The child spirit nodded, and began to move away. _"Follow me. Follow, follow, follow."_ The child flickered, further proving that it was not human, or even fully material, its form reappearing further and further away in the dripping forest as it went, its glow always visible.

Shiori went to follow, to pursue the beckoning light as she had the beckoning whisper, but was stopped by the arm around her waist. Mochizuki, long ignored, was not letting his opinion go unheard any longer. His feet were firmly planted and in the reflected light of the flashlight, she could see that his face was set in a disbelieving frown.

"Kanzaki-san, you cannot be serious. We _can't_ follow a ghost into the forest!"

Perhaps it was because they were both mired so deeply in an unbelievable kind of situation that such a reasonable point made no sense to her for a moment. She blinked at him slowly. "What choice do we have?"

"We can leave this place," he said, again in a reasonable tone that defied understanding. "We can go back to Azakawa. Kanzaki-san," some of the sternness went out of his eyes and he abruptly looked much younger, closer to how young he truly was. "You have the beginnings of hypothermia. You have to get dry and warm, or it will only get worse. Kanzaki-san… you could die out here."

As if to underscore what he said, Shiori was overcome by a bout of shivers. Her jaw clamped painfully for a moment before she could speak again. "And… d-do you kn-know the way back to Azakawa? We could wander f-for days and n-never find our way back." She shivered again, decided to take a risk and make an assumption. "M-Mochizuki-kun, I know you know me. Please… I don't want to forget anymore."

A pained look crossed Mochizuki's face. "Perhaps it is best that you do, Kanzaki."

"How… can you know that? S-Something was taken from me, something important. I know it. If I don't get it back…" She felt the tears prickle her eyes again, and knew for certain that she was as bad off as the policeman said. She didn't trust herself to speak, her voice would wobble or crack, and then she might break down completely. Instead she fixed her eyes on Mochizuki, hoping it would be enough to convince him.

Mochizuki only held her eyes for a minute before he had to break away. He sighed, readjusted his grip on her waist, and nodded. Moving as quickly as they were able, the pair followed the ghost into the rain drenched forest.

For Mochizuki, there was no choice but to agree, even knowing what the outcome of it all of this would be. But the look Shiori had given him, the particular quality in her eyes, so broken and pained, on the edge of despair; it was a look he had seen far too often in Suga-kun of late.

They were alike in several ways, he realized, and not all of them beneficial. They were both stubborn, for example. It was no wonder they got along so well.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Ah, hypothermia. Mochizuki's excellent forest navigational skills are entirely based upon my own. It's known as 'A Spiral Pattern Will Get Us Out Eventually.'_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	10. Part X

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry this took a little longer than usual to come up, everyone. There was a wind storm and my entire county lost power yesterday. It's all up and running now, though, so we're good. In time for today's update!_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part X

…

The rain was only getting worse. Suga's lamp, efficient as it was, was having trouble lighting up the deepening dark, a tiny, valiant firefly caught in the storm. The only reason he had not become lost amid the dripping branches was thanks to his familiarity with the paths and game trails, the landmarks anyone else would walk straight past all picked out neatly on his mental map. Yet even with his knowledge of the area, Suga had gotten himself turned around more than once in his search of the one that had dropped the umbrella - whoever had been foolish enough to come into the forest in such weather.

It truly was a new height of foolishness, in Suga's estimation. Even without the legends and warnings concerning the Kotori Obake, who would be stupid enough to run out into the forest when it was raining, so close to the sun going down? If even he, who knew the forest better than anyone in Azakawa, was capable of losing his bearings, then what chance did anyone else have? The majority of the villagers had never once been under these trees.

It was already night, and there was no more sign of the intrepid, imprudent explorer. Suga's grip on lamp and sword hilt tightened, the light of both dancing into the shadows before being drowned in the rivers of rain dripping from the canopy. He was meant to be the protector of Azakawa, the Ogami-san in a long line of the same, keeping the village safe from the spirits and ogres that lurked just beyond their doors. Up until recently he had done a reasonably good job. The Councilman had not been wrong when he had said that there had been no disappearances in the last several years. What he _had_ been mistaken about was how this proved that there was no longer any need of an Ogami-san or cautionary legends about going into the forest. It was _because_ there was an Ogami-san that none had gone missing for so long.

Perhaps he had allowed himself to grow lax after so long with no children falling victim to the spirits of the forest. Perhaps the threat to the museum had distracted him, or the incident of Shii-chan's return. That it was all due to some failing of his own that there was someone in the forest who was even now being hunted by the Kotori Obake, Suga did not doubt for an instant. It was his responsibility to prevent it from happening, and nothing could excuse his failure. There _were_ no excuses, no flexibility when the stakes were so very high.

No excuse would be enough to bring back a child, or to ease the despair of a family mourning its youngest member.

Suga wondered who it would be. Most likely, he would find out who it was he had failed when he saw the family, hollow-eyed, asking around if anyone had seen their child.

It had been so long since he had found the umbrella that Suga was beginning to despair finding them alive. He was beginning to despair whoever it was ever being found, in any condition. There was little he could do once they stepped into the forest, even less when their scent was picked up by the spirits. And once they were found by the spirits, or the Kotori Obake…

Suga was only an effective protector before anyone was put in danger… which seemed a fair enough assessment of his limitations to keep him from objecting to it.

It was true to say that every Ogami-san's greatest skill lay in the prevention of trouble, rather than in repairing any damage. There was only so much that the glowstone could be expected to accomplish, and only so much to be expected of those whose skills were based almost entirely upon them. It was only when Suga had taken the step of fashioning the stone into the shape of a sword that the role of Ogami-san had taken on a proactive role, rather than a completely passive one. Given the particular nature of that proactive attitude and the sort of sacrifice it required weighed against what it accomplished, Suga did not think it a technique that would survive him in the line of Ogami-san. The only reason he carried a blade now was as a last resort. If he could escape the forest - with whoever had lost themselves in tow - without using his rough katana, then he would.

Though the possibility of his leaving with anything but his own skin was a quickly dwindling one. Even if it were an adult who was lost, they were likely lost forever by this time. If it were a child…

Suga did not want to return to his cave knowing that he may have abandoned a child to the living nightmares that populated the forest. He truly did not want that failure to sit and fester on his soul. He didn't want to return to the museum in a few days' time and wait for word of a child gone missing to reach him; to have a name and face that would forever haunt him.

He didn't want another child to be made into one of the horrors of this place, perhaps to fall to his blade and be destroyed by him, because he had not saved them.

So he went on, long after any reasonable, sane man would have given up. Every layer of clothing was soaked, his shoes caked in what felt like pounds of mud, the feeling in toes and fingers and ears fading away, but still he searched for any sign. He spread out his internal senses, combing through the forest in those ways that old Keiichirou had taught him to do, alert to anything that was neither stone nor spirit that he might pick up.

There was nothing he could discern. If there were clues for his eyes, they went unnoticed. Any footprints or broken branches, they were overlooked if they existed at all. Suga was no tracker, and in the darkness and rain only the largest and most obvious of signs would have drawn his attention. There were no obvious signs, and so to his eye there was no trail at all. To his more mystical senses, all that appeared were scattered stone sentinels, slowly decaying where they stood, and the increasingly aggrieved spirits. Neither one of these impressions told Suga where he might find a lost child. The stones were no help at all and the activity of the spirits was still so diffuse that it gave Suga no hint of a location. Of course, when the activity of the spirits became more focused, then it would probably be far too late.

He was beginning to consider taking his search to those places where he knew the spiritual activity was high, and where he had automatically avoided going at first because of the great danger they posed, when he heard something.

Suga froze in place, straining his ears to catch any sound other than rain pattering through the leaves. At first he could make out nothing. He wasn't even certain what it was that had caught his ear, only that it was some sound that did not belong. Whatever it was had not lasted long enough to be more than registered, and certainly hadn't been categorized in any way. Whatever it had been, it didn't seem in any rush to repeat itself.

Suga remained still. Over the years he had learned the lesson of patience well. He knew that in the presence of spirits hasty action could cost much more than the time invested in waiting. As still as a statue carved from the stone he had dedicated so much of his young life to, rain dripping unchecked over his face, Suga waited and listened.

When the sound came again, Suga almost sighed in relief. If he'd had a voice he would have been in danger of calling out in relief.

It was the sound of feet, shuffling uncertainly in the underbrush and fallen leaves, and a muted snuffle, as though the maker of the sound were crying or fighting off a cold. It was a very human series of noises, not like to be those made by either spirit or ogre.

Human or not, it was important that he still proceed slowly and carefully. Whoever it was that was out here, if they were suddenly faced with someone coming out of the night, they might be frightened into flight. They could take off blindly into the forest, away from their very rescue, and blunder straight into danger. This possibility was made all the more likely if it _was_ a child, and then again more so if they had seen for themselves any of the spirits of Azakawa Forest. Even if the worst they had experienced was a cold, wet night lost in the woods, Suga was all too well aware that the sight of _his_ face coming out of the dark wasn't necessarily the most comforting one.

He approached the sound carefully, his lantern held high in hope that they would see that first and correctly interpret the approaching light as human. He kept the hand holding the sword behind him. If anything would have them running off into the night, it was a wet, pale scarecrow coming at them with a sword.

Against his hopes, Suga approached the other person from behind rather than from in front of them - so much for not wanting to seem as though he were sneaking up on them. But it did give him the opportunity to observe them before he was in turn observed.

It was not so young a child as he had feared it would be, but neither was it an adult, unless they were particularly short. Whether they were male or female was impossible to tell; they were wearing a long raincoat with the hood pulled up over their head. They also appeared to be wearing rubber rain boots. Suga wasn't sure how to feel about that. They were undoubtedly foolish for being here at all, but that they took at least some personal precautions said they weren't completely without sense. They had also thought far enough ahead to bring a small flashlight, which they were using to sweep through the trees.

A pity, then, that all this evident good sense did not extend so far as to keeping them home where it was warm, dry and safe, rather than traipsing about the forest alone.

By the way the person, most likely a teenager was looking around themselves, Suga had little doubt that they were indeed lost, searching for something familiar to put them on the right path back to the village.

Unable to call out to get their attention - and at the same time reassure them of his good intentions - Suga lifted his lamp as high as he could and deliberately made some noise in the brush as he stepped forward. It was the best he could do, and he hoped the friendly expression he was trying for wasn't too warped in the odd lighting.

The person whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps, the weak beam of the flashlight cutting an arc through the night before settling on Suga's face, blinding him. In the instant between the figure turning around and having a flashlight in his eyes, Suga was able to make out a pale, frightened, female face. The gasp and cry confirmed the girl's identity, and Suga's attempt at a pleasant expression vanished.

"Manager! It's you!"

Suga held up a hand to block the light, it was the same hand that held the sword, but he was much less concerned with how the girl would respond to it now. He squinted, trying to further confirm what he was already sure of.

The girl, realizing where it was she was shining her light, twitched her hand to the side. As Suga's vision cleared it became obvious that it was indeed Sakuma Miyako who stood before him. Annoyance swiftly escalated into anger, and Suga clamped his jaws together, as though to hold back an angry tirade which, of course, would never come.

Sakuma, out of anyone else in the village, absolutely and without a doubt, _knew better_ than to go into the forest. She had experienced firsthand what could befall the unwary - or even the wary who came to the forest. She had been extremely lucky to be one of the few who had experienced the horrors first hand and lived to tell about it.

Suga had thought so much more of Sakuma than this. That she would cast aside not only any wisdom gained by her experience in addition to her own common sense was bad enough, but that she would make so light of the sacrifices and risks others had made to ensure that she would get out safely was almost cruel. He wouldn't have thought it in her to think so little of those who cared for her.

It denoted a certain meanness of spirit he never suspected in her.

Scowling fiercely, Suga approached until they were close together and drove the point of his sword into the moist earth. Sakuma jumped and stared at the sword. If she were nervous of Suga's mood, however, she needn't fear the sword. With one hand free, Suga dug into his pockets, looking for his memo pad and pen, glad of a nearly lifelong habit of carrying them. It was a problem most people didn't have to consider, but to potentially be without any means of communication save poor pantomimes was a disability Suga dealt with every day.

It was a challenge to write while holding onto a lamp's handle, the rain trying to wash away the ink as he wrote, but he got what he wanted to say written down and handed the sheet to the girl, who read it in the beam of her flashlight.

'I've been looking everywhere for you. Why are you here?'

It had been a personal struggle to not add the word 'fool' to the end of that question.

After reading the memo, Sakuma frowned, but not it her usual, defiant way. She looked confused. "You were looking for me? How did you know I was here?"

By way of answer, Suga pulled out the umbrella he still had at his back and handed it to her. Sakuma took the yellow and orange dotted thing, looking more confused than ever, and then, all of a sudden, very alarmed. "Oh, no…"

The girl's apparent contrition did nothing to soften him. He began to write out another, angrier memo, citing all the reasons why what she had done was a major act of folly. Before he could get further than the first few words, Sakuma began to babble, interrupting him. It was a pet peeve of his to be interrupted mid-memo, and his patience shortened even further.

"I'm sorry, Suga-san, I know I shouldn't be out here. Mochizuki-san had me go home and everything, but I couldn't stay there and just _wait_ without helping! I couldn't just leave you and Mochizuki to do everything when I knew what was going on."

It was Suga's turn to look confused at what was apparently meant to be an explanation. Mochizuki-kun? What did he have to do with anything? Did that mean _he_ was in the forest as well? Had everyone gone insane while he wasn't looking?

Not seeing the point in writing down the single word question 'What?' on his memo pad, Suga simply turned one of his palms up to her, a motion they had come to agree meant the wanting of more information.

In the three different light sources, lamp, flashlight and sword, Sakuma's face contorted into an unfamiliar expression - frightened and uncertain. Sakuma was normally unfailingly straightforward - to a fault most times if truth be told. Her hesitation was unsettling, the peculiar shadows crossing her face only heightening the sensation. The girl licked her lips, her grip on the bright umbrella tightening. She lifted it slightly. "Suga-san, this umbrella… it isn't mine."

For a moment understanding continued to elude him, and he frowned uncomprehendingly. Then the sense of her words sank in, and his eyes widened in horror. If it wasn't Sakuma's umbrella, then someone _else_ was in Azakawa Forest, and, from the sound of it, so was Mochizuki-kun. Could the night possibly get any worse? He turned his palm up to Sakuma, silently demanding that she explain further. The girl looked like she was about to be ill.

"I- I don't know how to tell you this, Suga-san, but… this is Onee-chan's umbrella. It's Shiori's."

Suga stared at her.

If it were possible, he thought he comprehended even less than before. Shii-chan? The umbrella belonged to Shii-chan? That wasn't possible, she had been sent home. What could her umbrella possibly be doing _here?_

He shook his head, unable to do more than silently deny what Sakuma was telling him.

But Sakuma wouldn't let him deny it. She went on without mercy. "She was at the museum when I got there today. She had been nosing through things again. I don't think she actually remembers anything but that's only made things worse. Mochizuki-san and I tried to get her to leave, but she ran off into the forest. Mochizuki is looking for her already, and I came out too because I would have a much better chance than he would, and- and we have to find her _soon_." Sakuma paused, her fear making her look young and fragile. "She's been in here for hours now, and the Kotori Obake is looking for her. I can feel it."

As Sakuma spoke, the initial shock and disbelief wore away, leaving horrified panic in their place. Shii-chan was in the woods, _again_ , this time without a shred of protection and with Suga having no clue where to find her. If her memory was still gone, then she would be wandering blind, with no destination or even any idea of where she was.

 _Why_ had she come back? Was there some other clue Suga didn't know about that led her back to this place? He had taken the family photograph that had started the last chain of events before sending her home on the train, but he had no real idea if that was the only thing that could have led her to Azakawa. There must have been something he overlooked, or that he didn't know about at all.

Or perhaps he hadn't erased her memories properly the second time. It was possible. He had been rushed; it was possible that the memory suppression had not been as thorough as it had been the first time.

In which case, Shii-chan being back and in danger yet again was entirely his fault, a direct result of his own incompetence. If anything happened to Shii-chan, that would also be a product of his ineptitude.

Suga turned to Sakuma, who took an unconscious step back, away from his black expression. He quickly scribbled down a message and thrust it at the girl, making her flinch even further before she took it.

'You can't stay. I will take you home and then find the others.'

The girl scowled at the paper and crumpled it up in her hand as she leveled a scowl of her own on him. "No way, I am _not_ going home. You need my help."

Suga shook his head emphatically. One person besides himself out here was bad, but three? The chances of something unpleasant happening to one or all of them rose exponentially with every new person added to the mix. They didn't need more people out here searching, they needed _fewer_ , in Sakuma's case in particular. She was especially susceptible, like Shii-chan, though not in the same way. It was important to get her home safely, and to make sure she stayed there this time.

"Yes, you do!"

Suga snorted, a quick exhalation, and after taking up his sword and placing it where the umbrella had been across his back, he took a firm hold of the girl's elbow and began to steer her in the direction of the village. This was no time to be arguing with a petulant child on her self-appointed rights. If Mochizuki-kun and Shii-chan really were in the forest, then he had bigger things to worry about than Sakuma's attitude. Besides which, he simply didn't have the patience for it.

Sakuma was less than sanguine about going. She tried to jerk her arm free, but Suga's hold on her was strong, and she only succeeded in making herself yelp with pain. She dug her heels into the mud, she twisted, she struck at Suga's shoulder with the fist that held the umbrella, which resulted in Suga being smacked upside the head with the rolled up canopy a few times, but nothing she did made him stop his march back to Azakawa.

And the whole while, she protested loudly.

"Stop it, _stop it!_ Let _go_ , you stupid manager! Let me go, I want to help find Onee-chan, I have to help! You and stupid Mochizuki will only mess it all up and get yourselves killed, stupid _boys!_ I said let me go, you're _hurting_!"

He did his best to ignore it, not even loosening his grip when she said he was hurting her. The idea bothered him, but if he gave in even a little she would slip away from him in an instant. He was faster than she was, at least in most conditions, but now was not the time for chasing an uppity girl through the forest, either.

After a minute or so of being towed through the trees, no heed paid to any of her protests, she decided to change tactics. "Suga-san, please. Stop and think for a minute. Onee-chan has been out here a long time already. If you waste more to take me back home and then get back here, and _then_ start your search, who knows what could happen in the meantime? You can't risk Onee-chan being found by the Kotori Obake just to drag me home!"

That did make Suga pause. It was a good point, which in no way invalidated his own, but…

Sakuma pressed her argument. "Besides, it's pointless to take me home, when I'll just be sneaking out again as soon as I'm able to." When Suga turned to glare at her, she shrugged. "I'm just telling you what will happen. I can't let Onee-chan stay here without trying to help any more than you can. And you _know_ that I can help, more than anyone else could," she added with a look. " _You_ know that I can feel the spirits, the Kotori Obake. I can use that. Knowing where the spirits are can help us find Onee-chan."

He did in fact know of Sakuma's abilities, to an extent. He had suspected them for a long time, in the months and years she had been using the museum as her personal after school hideout. It had been a small suspicion lurking at the back of his mind that she possessed some of the same skill that he did, the same skill that the Kanzaki line had long been famed for, though less bound to the night glowstone. Up until the events over the summer, however, he would never have guessed the strength of it, or how susceptible it left her to the spirits she lived so near. Those events had led him to craft the bracelet of glowstones that she wore.

His eyes fell to her left wrist, where she always wore the bracelet. The cuff of her raincoat hid it from him. It was those events and his new knowledge of her strength, of her potential, that had him considering taking her as an apprentice Ogami-san.

If he could consider that, and how much danger such an undertaking would put her in every day, then he had to consider this as well. Besides, if it helped them to find Shii-chan before something happened to her…

Slowly, reluctantly, feeling as though he would be making a mistake no matter what choice he made, Suga let go of Sakuma's elbow, allowing her to step back. He nodded, once, still scowling to show how much he disliked this plan. He wrote out a note.

'You will direct, I will deal with any danger. You must tell me when you feel we are near to them.'

He drew the rough glowstone sword again so it was ready in his hand, giving it a few practice swings. It had poor balance compared with the _bokutō_ he used for form training, but it was passable.

Sakuma nodded. "Yeah, I don't think there's going to be any problem warning you. You'll be able to hear me in the next province over."

With a grim smile, Suga motioned for Sakuma to take the lead. Holding lamp high and sword ready, he followed her into the dripping shadows.

In the hissing roar of the rain, neither noticed the soft sounds of small stones cracking under pressure, of hairline fractures racing like delicate spider webs through glowing crystal. Focusing on her mission to sense where the Kotori Obake and her spectral brood were, Sakuma failed to sense the fingers of another mind slowly creeping into hers.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Ooo. Drama. I really, really like writing the relationship between Suga and Sakuma. So much fun!_

 **Bokutō:** _A bokutō or bokken is a wooden sword used for training, usually in the same size and shape as a katana, but sometimes other types of blades as well. These are not the same as shinai, which are the fatter, flexible practice swords made of bamboo._

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone!**_


	11. Part XI

_**A/N:**_ _Aaaah, I'm so sorry this is late, everyone! I totally forgot about it on Wednesday (because I'm brain fried and a general moron), remembered on Thursday but couldn't get it posted because it was Thanksgiving! TT^TT_

 _Here it is, though. I'm setting myself alarms for next Wednesday so I don't forget again. Sorry!_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part XI

…

Kanzaki-san looked so peaceful; her eyes closed and lashes resting against her cheek, brow smooth. It was the most peaceful Mochizuki had seen her since her return to Azakawa, and he rather suspected it _was_ the most peaceful she had been since she had been sent home. Perhaps since before even then. Thinking back to the time when they had first met at the defunct bus stop outside the train station, he recalled thinking that she had looked stressed. Even then she had seemed preoccupied, a little on edge. How long had it been since she had enjoyed a restful night's sleep, Mochizuki wondered? If anyone deserved to have one… she was one of three he could think of who needed it more than anyone else on the planet.

Except that this wasn't just a peaceful slumber, Mochizuki reminded himself.

Sitting in his small nest of gathered branches, the young officer watched over Kanzaki as she 'slept' beside him.

No, it wasn't really sleep. He didn't really understand it, but it was some sort of ritual meant to restore all of Kanzaki's repressed memories. After following the child ghost for what felt like hours, they had been led into a series of manmade caves. It wasn't long before Mochizuki recognized them as the caves Kanzaki-san and Suga-kun had been trapped in, which he had gained access to through the well behind the museum, and then again through a trap door in the back room in the museum itself. Mochizuki hated the place, and was even less willing than before to go on, but Kanzaki was inexorable. They went in, following the child, to a deep room filled with musty books and a trio of disturbing masks hanging on one wall.

It was out of the rain at least, and since they were out of the wind it was a little warmer, too. But it was hardly what Mochizuki wanted in terms of 'warm and dry' to halt Kanzaki-san's diving core temperature. The ghost they were trusting their lives with told them that they needed to be here to perform some ritual, and that for a little while they would be safe from the other spirits that were seeking them out. But before they could do anything, Kanzaki needed her memories back.

Mochizuki was willing to confess that he understood very little of what was going on, save some of the bottom line practicalities he had to deal with, but this returning of Kanzaki's memories was perhaps something he understood the least. From what he had been able to gather, her memories hadn't been taken from her _per se_ , but had been pulled apart and the pieces locked away, all using the night glowstone. To regain her memories, she would have to find some way to unlock and sort them all back into their proper places. It didn't sound particularly easy, and the ghost only gave two possible methods to go about it: with someone experienced using the stones, or a spirit acting as a guide.

Which effectively brought them to where they were now. Kanzaki-san had fallen unconscious and the ghost had disappeared, leaving Mochizuki alone in the dark, echoing caves. He shivered a little, and drew his knees closer to his chest. He had no idea how long this process was meant to take, or if there was anything he was supposed to do, or supposed not to do. He had no idea how much time they had until the rest of the ghosts found them. And in the meantime all he could do was watch as Kanzaki grew paler, colder, and wonder if he hadn't made a terrible mistake, if she would ever wake up.

When five minutes passed and the girl had not so much as twitched, Mochizuki had made himself busy. Leaving Kanzaki with as many layers of his own clothing as he could spare, he had gone outside and gathered as many tree branches as he could. They were springy pine branches, and when laid out they made for a surprisingly soft mattress. He formed one on the floor of the room and moved Kanzaki to it. It wasn't the most comfortable or the warmest, but it was better than lying on the floor where the stone would leech away whatever warmth she still had. After some consideration and a few minutes seated on the ground, he had made a second, smaller mattress for him to sit on.

He had considered trying to light a fire, but everything was soaked through, and with no ventilation a damp fire in a cave probably wasn't the wisest of choices. Even a city boy such as himself knew that much. He had also considered lying down next to Kanzaki to share some of his body heat, but he knew from training manuals that it would do little good unless it was skin to skin.

If it came to a matter of life or death that was an option, but he doubted Kanzaki would understand if she woke up to that. So he sat nearby. Close enough, he hoped, that _some_ radiant warmth could be shared and where he could monitor her condition.

It was just so hard to tell if things were going well or not. How was Mochizuki supposed to tell the difference between a peaceful false-slumber and a dangerous one unless Kanzaki-san started stirring in her sleep? And if that did happen, what was he supposed to do about it?

Left in the darkened expanse of the caves with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, Mochizuki couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was they were meant to be accomplishing. Kanzaki-san wanted to regain her memories, which she seemed all too aware were missing in the first place. He couldn't say he blamed her. To be aware of a large portion of your life being missing must be frightening, and might explain a little of the dark smudges under her eyes. Suga-kun would be upset, though, and it was an unanswered question in Mochizuki's mind how long Kanzaki-san would be allowed to retain her recovered memories.

The ghost had said something about a ritual, one after the one they were currently acting out to restore Kanzaki's memory, and in the forest had said something about saving 'her.' He had no idea who 'her' might be in this case, since the ghost had clearly meant for Kanzaki-san to be the one doing the saving, nor had he any clue what Kanzaki would be expected to do in order to save her. He hoped whatever all of this was leading up to would result in their leaving the forest alive. The longer they stayed, the more he doubted it.

…

It took a moment for Shiori to remember where she was when she opened her eyes. For a second she expected to be in her bed in her parent's house, then as her memory caught up far enough to remember the car accident, in her apartment with Rin. That had been in the rain as well, hadn't it…?

Then the spool of memories she had just relived pushed themselves forward on her consciousness, and the present became lost in the jumble of memories from childhood, from a month ago, from a day ago. Lying as still as possible, she waited for the dizzying storm in her mind to stop before trying to open her eyes again.

When the room resettled and her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she remembered. She was in the caves. Again. And it was the 'again' part that was the real wonder of it. She had her memories back, and among them was the definite knowledge that she should _not_ be here. The last time she had been here, she had been under siege by possibly every spirit in the forest. But the child spirit had led them here as a safe place. It needed them here for something.

Something prickled her skin when she moved, trying to spot Mochizuki. She was lying on a bed of tree branches. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than the stone floor. Recent memory was still a little uncertain, but she was fairly confident that she hadn't lain down on a bed of prickly needles.

When she found Mochizuki sitting at her left shoulder, the mini mystery was solved. The whole front of his uniform was speckled in pine needles. In the light of his flashlight, she could also see that he had dozed off sitting up, his gun within easy reach.

Shiori smiled at sight of him. He really was a good man, and a good friend. She had her memories of him back along with everything else, and was beginning to recognize a certain pattern of his for rescuing people. And even when he knew that getting her memories back would cause problems, he still helped her. Of course, if the memos she had found in the museum meant what she thought they did, he had also known her memories were going to be taken from her and hadn't stopped it… but she thought she could forgive him for that.

Shiori stretched, not feeling at all rested. Like the last time she had recovered her memories, she felt groggy and disconnected from the world around her. It was a nostalgic feeling and she almost expected to see Suga-kun beside her crying his eyes out instead of-

Suga-kun.

Since getting back to Azakawa, she had yet to see him, not even at the museum. What had happened to him after she left? He would have guarded the forest just as he had done before, but he had been doing that for years. Surely nothing would have happened to him…?

Her arm felt incredibly heavy as she reached up and touched Mochizuki lightly on the leg. He started violently awake, automatically reached for his gun as his eyes darted back and forth.

When he saw what it was that had awoken him, he immediately gave up on groping for his pistol. He smiled a little blearily at her. "Kanzaki-san."

"Wh-Where's… Suga-kun?"

The smile tilted at that. "Well, no need to ask if it worked, I suppose."

"Mochizuki-kun!"

The young officer sighed and stretched his back, making several joints snap loudly. "Don't worry. So far as I know, he's just fine. He's gone somewhere to make more of those glowstone things to keep the ghosts out of town." He looked at her, examining her face. "Suga-kun can handle himself, Kanzaki-san. He knows his way around and what he's doing. You _should_ be worried about us."

Shiori frowned at him, but knew Mochizuki was at least partially right. Suga had a better idea of how to deal with the ghosts than either one of them did, and in addition was not in their sights. The ghosts of the children and the Kotori Obake were after the two of them, not Suga-kun. As much as she wanted to dash out and make certain that he was alright, she knew that it was a foolish endeavor.

Mochizuki was right, Suga could handle himself well enough, and finding him might actually lead the danger to him.

As backwards as it seemed, she couldn't protect him by being near him, by putting herself directly between him and the approaching danger. She had tried that when they had been children. He had lived, but without a voice and trapped as the guardian of the forest. _He_ had tried to protect _her_ by taking her memories - twice - in hopes that distance and forgetting her promise to the Kotori Obake would save her. It _had_ saved her, she had lived to adulthood unmolested by the supernatural world, and in a way she had succeeded in saving him, since he was also alive.

But they had also failed. In both cases they had done almost as much harm as good to each other.

The way they had been going about things was all wrong. It was all based on sacrifice and running away, which only worked in the short term. The only way they could really protect each other, the only way _she_ could protect _Suga_ , would be to make all of this STOP.

"Kanzaki-san?"

Shiori looked up. Mochizuki was watching her worriedly. It made her wonder how bad she looked. It made her wonder how bad she _was_.

"What now?"

She took a deep breath, determination and her restored memories giving her more strength than she'd had in weeks. She felt warmer, more centered in herself with the memory of Suga-kun returned to her. "Now," she said, "we have to hurry. I- remem-member my promise… The K-Kotori Obak-ke can come f-for me. Only a matter of… t-time before she finds us."

The child ghost was exhausted after helping restore her memories, and could no longer appear as he had in the forest. But while it had been in her mind the ghost had told her some of what and who he was, and what he wanted in return for helping her.

The child ghost was the Kotori Obake's real child, one that had been taken from her and killed, and was in fact the central obsession of the Kotori Obake. Shiori could tell that not all of the details of the story were being provided, but it seemed the Kotori Obake, the 'child stealer,' did so because she was trying to replace her own stolen child. The child, for whatever reason, could not rejoin his mother in the afterlife without the completion of a ritual begun years ago.

If Shiori understood all she had been told and they completed the ritual, the curse on the forest and on Azakawa would be lifted. The Kotori Obake would be purified, and no more children would go missing ever again.

It could all stop.

Shiori explained as best she could to Mochizuki, who already knew a great deal about the Kotori Obake, which was surprising for an outsider. The only problem was knowing exactly they were meant to _do_. Shiori knew the gist, but the actual details of the ritual were fuzzy, and the child ghost was too drained to guide them through it all.

"The ritual was… s-started a long time ago," Shiori said, rubbing at her arms in a vain attempt to bring some life back into them. After standing and realizing just how weak she was, the bed of branches was suddenly one of the most comfortable things she had ever seen. "By people who… lived down here. There should be clues…"

Mochizuki looked around skeptically, sweeping the flashlight through the dark. It wasn't a very large room, but there were two sections, a lower and higher half separated by a few stairs. They had camped out in the lower half and the mess of the pine bed took up nearly the whole floor. The higher half of the floor held a couple of rough bookshelves, sagging and leaning into each other with age, their shelves vomiting books and loose pages onto the floor. He nodded towards them.

"There's a good place to start."

Shiori really didn't want to walk, not even the short distance to the shelves. She was tired, her feet hurt, and all she really wanted to do was curl into a tiny, tight little ball and sleep. She forced herself, though, stumbling up the stairs as her legs refused to work properly and having to lean on Mochizuki's arm. She did her best to ignore the three masks hanging on the wall; she had the creepy feeling that they were watching her.

Working together in the glow of the flashlight, they scanned through the books and loose papers. Most of them were in poor condition. Whatever care they might have had once had been lacking for some time. The damp, which Shiori could only assume the once occupants of the place had staved off somehow, had damaged nearly every volume. A few were so spoiled they were beyond hope of ever being read again. She hoped that whatever they needed, if it was here at all, wasn't in one of those.

Most of the books were full of old research of the village, sometimes interspersed with notes in margins or extra pages inserted, crowded with a small hand. It looked as though part of the purpose of this place was in keeping Azakawa's history intact, a lost library of written records. It reminded Shiori of the library in the museum. Suga-kun would probably like to see this place.

Passing over volumes that looked like records and histories of the village itself - there were too many to read all of them - they eventually found what looked like a personal journal kept by someone who worked in the caves. They flipped through the crackling pages, searching for their clue.

"Wait!" Shiori stopped Mochizuki from turning a page near the end of the journal. "Here, see?" She pointed to a passage where the handwriting of the journalist had been very tight and controlled, then quickly loosened and became crooked.

'…to put her to rest it is necessary to give offerings to the casket resting on a pedestal. A purified corpse has been put inside; however, the contents of the casket are incomplete, making it impossible to complete any ritual. Perhaps this is the only hope our ancestors, driven by guilty consciences, were able to leave behind… As long as we are unable to find the missing piece of the corpse, purify it, and restore it to its casket, that hope can never be realized. Even though it's just a tiny fragment. '

Mochizuki nodded slowly. The flashlight was shaking slightly in his hand. Shiori wasn't the only one who was cold. "This looks right. And I remember seeing a stone pedestal. But this missing piece is a problem. If they couldn't find it then, I don't see how we're going to find-"

The officer stopped abruptly as Shiori lifted her palm up into the flashlight's beam. Flashing all along its sharp edges was the white fragment she had been carrying with her. Mochizuki stared at it for a moment, and then turned a questioning look on her.

Shiori shrugged a little self-consciously. "I f-found it… last time I was here. I still-ll had it when I got home." Apparently Suga-kun had been willing to take the photo of her family standing outside the mansion that had led her to Azakawa the first time, but hadn't been willing to search her pockets for anything else that might bring her back. Or if he had searched her, he hadn't thought anything of the fragment.

Shiori promised herself that she would ask which it was when she saw him again, and in so doing promised herself that she _would_ see him again.

"Are you sure this is the one we need? It doesn't look like a piece of a body."

She was about to say that no, she wasn't _sure_ that it was the piece that was mentioned in the journal, but found herself nodding instead. "Yes. When I h-held it, I could hear the li-little ghost better. Maybe it's a- a fragment of bone." As she said it she felt a little ill, thinking of how she had been carrying a bit of a child's bone in her pocket all this time, treating it like a charm. She pressed down her queasiness. It could keep until she had time to indulge it.

Mochizuki pulled a face, apparently struck with the same line of thinking. "Okay," he said. "That's the piece that we need. But what about the purification? Or the casket?"

Shiori shook her head. "The ghost- h-he said we had to be here to- to do the ritual. Whatever else we need, it m-must be here somewhere." It was a leap of faith, but it was getting hard to think, and harder to argue. After fighting for so long, it was only fair that things to fall into place, wasn't it?

Thankfully Mochizuki didn't seem too interested in continuing his objections. He nodded, and after tucking the small volume into one of his many pockets, put his arm around her again to help her walk.

There wasn't much to the room they were in, and a quick perusal of its darkest corners revealed nothing in the way of a casket or any way of purifying the fragment. With Mochizuki still supporting her, they left to search the rest of the caves.

They were in a section that Shiori didn't recognize, even with her memories returned. When she asked Mochizuki where they were, he said they were not far from the entrance to the back room in the museum. The door to this section had been locked when the spirit had brought them here, and he'd had to break the handle to get them inside. When she tried, Shiori could vaguely recall that. She'd been quite hazy by that time.

The room just outside the one they had been camping in was more exposed. When Mochizuki swung his flashlight around they could see two doors, the one to the right being the one Mochizuki had broken open, while the one to the left led to somewhere unknown. It was an easy door to spot, would have been easy to spot even without Mochizuki's flashlight. Set above the threshold was a mass of coarse night glowstone, shining in the darkness. Shiori wondered how long it had been there, and how powerful the Ogami-san that had put it there had to have been for it to still be so bright? In the center of the room was what looked like a large stone basin filled with clear water. There were symbols etched into the stone along the outside, but Shiori didn't recognize them, couldn't read them. If she had to guess, she thought they looked a little like a Buddhist sutra. There were more of them all around the inside, too.

Shiori frowned at the water. It seemed like an awful lot of effort to go to just store water when there was already so much throughout the cave systems. Perhaps when this had been constructed there hadn't been so much? But no, that couldn't be right. There were trenches cut into the floor all around the edges of the room and were all filled with running water. She could think of no other purpose for them, and yet another reservoir had been installed in the same room, and painstakingly carved with symbols.

The water was so clean and clear after all these years, surely that wasn't natural…?

"Mochizuki-kun, do you think this is where we're meant to purify the fragment?"

He looked, shining the flashlight over it again. "It certainly looks like it could be." He nodded. "Go ahead and try it. I doubt it will do any harm if it's wrong."

It wasn't exactly the most heartening line of thinking, but Shiori would take it. She took the fragment from her pocket and went to dip it into the water, but she was shaking so badly that she was sure she would drop it, and clamped her fingers around the piece. Mochizuki saw the problem, and gently took the fragment from her. He plunged both hands into the water, hissing at the cold, and scrubbed the piece with his fingers while Shiori held the flashlight.

"Do you suppose there's a chant or something we're supposed to do with this?"

"I hope not." Shiori concentrated on holding the flashlight steady. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to accomplish something so simple.

"Alright," Mochizuki pulled his hands out of the water, the drips reminding Shiori of the rain still falling outside. "I think this is as clean as this is going to get without taking a scrub brush to it."

Shiori looked. It did seem cleaner, and it hadn't looked all that dirty to begin with. She nodded with a little difficulty. "Okay. Now the casket."

Mochizuki nodded, shaking the water off of his hands, spattering the floor with dark little circles. "I don't remember seeing anything like a casket on our way in, so I think our best bet would be through there." He pointed to the third, illuminated doorway.

Shiori nodded her head in agreement, and together they approached the door.

A low kind of fence separated the room from the door, making the approach much more formal than would be expected in a cave. As they came closer, Shiori saw that there were small waterfalls of water coming from underneath the wall, feeding into the trenches in the floor. The wall was carved from top to bottom in writing. Like the water basin, it was beyond her understanding what any of it said, and was so blurred in any case she doubted anyone could read it.

Beyond the door was another room. They stopped in the doorway and stared. If either had doubted that whoever had constructed this place was part of a very organized, ritualistic group, those doubts were put to rest. On each side of them stood two stone _tōrō_ lanterns, making four in all, each one casting a strong, steady blue glow from night glowstones crammed inside. Beyond the lighted path, illuminated in blue, were six low stone figures of the Buddha, each one with a different engraving at their bases. This writing Shiori could read, and from left to right they read 'Deva Realm,' 'Human Realm,' 'Asura Realm,' 'Animal Realm,' 'Preta Realm,' and 'Naraka Realm.'

"It's like a _tera_ , a Buddhist temple," Mochizuki commented.

Shiori could only nod. She had wondered before, but now she really wanted to know who these people were that had put all of this together. Were they outsiders, a part of Azakawa, or were they her own ancestors, a part of the Kanzaki family? If this was the work of her family, then why had it been abandoned? If it was someone else's work, then where had they gone?

Behind the statues was a low wall, with an opening between the 'Asura Realm' and 'Animal Realm' Buddhas. The light of the glowstone would not penetrate the darkness beyond, so it wasn't until they stepped through and shone the flashlight that they could see what was there.

All along each wall were rows of _sotoba_ , wooden grave markers. They stood row upon row, half a dozen deep in places, and from what Shiori could see, not a single name painted on them was repeated. She couldn't know for certain, but Shiori was struck with the very strong impression that she was looking at the names of all the children who had gone missing in Azakawa Forest, the victims of the Kotori Obake. At least, all of those victims before the people who cared for this place had disappeared. How many more children had there been since?

As unsettling as the _sotoba_ were, it was the center of the room that really drew their attention. Partially partitioned by another low fence, the center of the floor was carved with more writing that Shiori could not read, but given their surroundings she was almost certain it _was_ a Buddhist sutra. Set against the back wall was another statue of Buddha, this one labeled 'Terrible Brute.'

And placed in the center of the writing was a small casket, just the right size to hold the remains of a child.

The two tired travelers looked at each other, and without a word went to the casket. For a moment they stood and stared at it.

Perhaps it was the temple-like atmosphere of the place, or being surrounded by so many grave markers and knowing that there ought to be more, but Shiori felt a quiet melancholy slip over her. There ought to be more to all of this, she thought. Not because it might be required, but because it seemed _right_. There ought to be _something_ as a mark of respect, an acknowledgement of all of the misery that had taken place, represented in the names surrounding them, centered on the long dead child in the casket. Shiori looked around at the _sotoba_ , at the lonely coffin, at the tiny fragment cupped in her hand.

How much pain and suffering had collected over the years, all to be stopped now by something so small? Nothing could undo what had already passed, but how much more would they be preventing?

After a minute of silence Mochizuki nudged her shoulder. "C'mon, Kanzaki. Let's get this finished, and then we can get out of here."

She nodded. "Right."

Working together, they lifted the heavy lid and slipped the fragment inside.

There was a flash of light as the lid settled back into place, and what sounded like the child's voice whispering. " _Thank you_."

"Okay," Mochizuki said, sounding more energetic than he had in awhile. "Now we just put it on the pedestal, right?" He frowned slightly. "That was further down the hall, I think, in the room just before the one with the trapdoor to the mansion."

It took a little effort to remember, but eventually Shiori did as well. Mochizuki might feel revived, but she was finding it harder with each passing minute to resist the temptation to just lie down and close her eyes. Every limb felt as though it had a sandbag attached to it. Even her thoughts were slow, like they were slogging through mud. Not long ago she hadn't been able to sleep; now she thought she was close to sleeping forever.

Mochizuki could see how close she was to collapsing, and he put a cold hand to her even colder cheek to get her attention. "Kanzaki-san. We're nearly there. If you can hold the flashlight, I'm pretty sure I can handle getting the casket where we need. Do you think you can last a little longer?"

She could see the concern, the doubt in his eyes. She wanted to smile, to straighten her spine and tell him of course she could last that long, to reassure him and give him the courage he needed, that they both needed… but she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't rally the energy for it. So instead she bit her lips together and nodded once.

As little as it was, it seemed to be enough for the policeman. He handed her the flashlight and went about getting the casket's bar settled over his shoulders so he could drag it.

Progress was slow. The casket was small but it was still heavy, and it was awkward for Mochizuki to maneuver around corners. Shiori, too, was having trouble moving, and she only had to contend with herself. Once past the low wall, it was much easier to progress along the rough _sandō_ , between the glowstone _tōrō_ lanterns.

They passed through the door overhung with more glowstone and the walls etched with illegible sutras without a problem. When they were just passing the basin of purifying water the whispers in her mind, which had been so quiet she had almost forgotten they were there, surged up in here mind so suddenly she clutched at her head, dropping the flashlight.

"Kanzaki! What is it?"

Shiori couldn't speak, could barely tell that Mochizuki was shouting. She was aware that she was moving before it registered that the motion came from the officer shaking her. The voices in her mind were so much louder, clearer, all clamoring to be heard, making the space where she stood… sat… feel incredibly crowded. There was too much, and it was all _in_ her head, with no way to get away from it.

"The children," she gasped, and hoped Mochizuki could hear her, for she couldn't hear herself. "All of the children she took, they're coming! They're here!"

The officer did hear her. His face went paler, and he turned, scooping up the flashlight from the floor. With surprising speed he got to his feet, drew his gun and crossed his wrists so that the beam and gun barrel were pointing in the same direction. He turned in place, scanning for threats, at the ready… with a completely useless weapon.

Nothing fell into his sights, but they didn't have long to wait.

They came through the walls. First only a couple, then more and more, until Mochizuki and Shiori were being pressed back by dozens of ghostly children. They had to abandon the casket, chased away from it by to the door of the room they had been camping in. Mochizuki swept his pistol back and forth across the crowd, searching for a target and knowing that none would be affected even if he fired.

Shiori stumbled backwards, not quite able to climb to her feet, staring at the children from behind Mochizuki's legs.

They were terrible to look at, each one a twisted parody of the sweet child they had been in life. Unlike before she had regained her memory and knew what they were, now there was a good measure of pity mixed with her fear. In one ghost, whose face was half crushed, she could still make out the baseball jersey he had been wearing when he had died. Another, who looked as though she had been partially skinned, still had her hair up in little braids.

They were quickly up against the wall, with nowhere to go but inside the room that had been their haven before. Shiori wished they could reach the door to the shrine. There they would be protected by the glowstone, but that way had been cut off. They were trapped where they were.

There was an explosion. Perhaps by accident, Mochizuki fired his gun.

Shiori had been wrong to think that bullets would have no effect. The ghosts did react. They attacked.

Three rushed Mochizuki. Shiori couldn't see what all they did, but from her vantage she saw as one apparently ran into the officer and was absorbed into him.

Mochizuki twitched, convulsed. His fingers went slack and both the gun and the flashlight clattered to the floor, the light spinning around the room crazily. Shiori watched in horror as Mochizuki slowly folded to the floor, still jerking.

"No!"

She reached for him, and then jerked her hand back as the spirits rushed a little closer.

Black terror threatened to overwhelm her. She looked towards Mochizuki's gun, even though it had _proved_ itself ineffective against the ghosts. Even if it was a poor weapon, she would feel better with _something_ , some sort of charm…

Charm.

Shiori pulled off the necklace she had taken from the museum and threw it into the mass of gathered children.

There was a loud crack as the glowstone pendant shattered. Shiori ducked instinctively, covering her head with her hands and as much of Mochizuki with her body as she could. When she looked up she was shocked. The room was empty. No spirits remained. Across the floor were sparkling shards of the shattered pendant.

As quickly as she could, Shiori checked on Mochizuki. She nearly fainted with relief when she saw he was breathing. It was weak, and he looked even paler than her hands, now, but he _was_ breathing. She looked around, taking stock.

There was no way she would be able to drag the casket as far as it needed to go, much less hoist it up onto a pedestal. Mochizuki had been struggling, and he had been in much better condition than she was, not to mention stronger. The casket would be staying where it was.

They couldn't stay out in this room with it, though. They had to get to a better position. The best would be the shrine, but as with trying the drag the casket a long distance, dragging the dead weight of Mochizuki that far was also out of the question.

Which left her only one option.

Dragging Mochizuki and the flashlight back into the room with the pine bed and the masks, even though its door was practically pressed to her back, took all of Shiori's remaining strength. She got him inside, kicked the door closed, and used the last dribbles of energy she had to get them both back onto the pine branches. The beds would help conserve whatever warmth they still had, which she didn't think could be much.

Even as she settled, her back to Mochizuki, knees to her chest, facing the door and clutching the sputtering flashlight for whatever protection it could give against the dark, she knew the situation wouldn't last long. If she didn't succumb to hypothermia first, then the spirits would be back soon to have them both.

Or the Kotori Obake.

Holding the failing light close, her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was how she wished she could have seen Suga again.

 _Suga-kun…_

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Well, this ought to have been very familiar to anyone who's played the game. :)_

 _It was actually really interesting to do research for this chapter, and it was by far the chapter that needed the most research done for it. As we've all no doubt assumed, those who made and worked in the caves that appear at the end of the game must have been Buddhists of some description, what with all the statues of Buddha lying around, but for those of us unschooled in the details of this religion, there's more which might have gone right over our heads._

 _For example, the six statues which are labeled Deva, Asura, etc., are also clues that this is a Buddhist shrine of some kind. Each of these six statues represents the six possible realms of rebirth found in Buddhism, specifically Tibetan Mahāyāna Buddhism. The construction and design of the place also heavily suggests a Buddhist temple. The definitions I'm about to give are super pared down and simplified, and I'm just giving them out to give an idea of what we're looking at. As with anything with religion and ritual, entire books can and have been written trying to explain them. There's a happy medium to be found with deeper, selective research, but that's not for here._

 **Deva Realm:** _The realm of bliss and pride, sometimes called 'the god's realm,' but those who live within it are not actually gods in the way Western cultures picture them. Being born into this realm is kind of awesome, except that things are so nice you'll probably forget about that pesky enlightenment quest thing and just laze about with your other god-like friends._

 **Human Realm:** _A realm based on passion, desire and doubt. If that sounds familiar it should, this is home sweet home to anyone reading this. Generally considered the most advantageous realm, as it's considered the only one from which one can achieve enlightenment. Why only from here? Personal opinion is because humans tend to think a lot of themselves._

 **Asura Realm:** _The realm based on jealousy, struggle, combat and rationalization, and populated with demigods. Spirits here were reborn into this realm because in human form they had good intentions but fell down on carrying them out, usually by causing harm._

 **Animal Realm:** _Based on strong states of ignorance and prejudice cultivated in a previous life. It's considered a slow and difficult process to achieve enough merit to get out of this realm and back to a higher one, such as Human._

 **Preta Realm:** _A realm of strong possessiveness and desires, it's also known as 'Hungry Ghost Realm.' After doing a bunch of reading, I would almost classify the Kotori Obake_ _ **as**_ _a Preta, but she doesn't quite fit. Preta are constantly hungry and thirsty, but never able to satisfy those desires._

 **Naraka Realm:** _A realm of hatred, this is also referred to as 'Hell Realm.' Different from Western hells, spirits are not trapped here forever, but just until their bad karma is used up, and then they are allowed to be born into a 'higher' realm._

 **Terrible Brute:** _I wasn't able to find anything referring to this, and so I assume it was something made up for the game, specifically referring to the Kotori Obake._

 **Sotoba:** _Wooden boards written with the names of the deceased, usually left beside or behind the grave of one who already has a stone. Knowing that, all the ones we see in game are probably for the Kotori Obake's child, but we aren't told so directly, so I get to interpret._

 **Tera:** _A Buddhist temple. From what I can find a Buddhist temple in Japan is called "tera" (or "dera" depending on grammar) or "ji." I'm not positive if these words are ever used as completely standalone words or only as a word-part to a larger phrase. I wasn't able to confirm it either way, so don't go running off with this word to show off to people._

 **Sandō:** _This is the road or walk approaching a Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple._

 **Tōrō:** _These are lanterns often used at shrines and temples, and for anyone familiar with anime or Japanese architecture at all, you will recognize them as soon as you see them. Google bar! :D Tōrō can be made of stone, metal or wood. They can be hanging (_ _tsuri-dōrō_ _), on a pedestal (tachi-dōrō), "buried" (ikekomi-dōrō), mobile (oki-dōrō), on curved legs (yukimi-dōrō), or made out of rough stones (nozura-dōrō). If that seems like a lot, yes it is, but there's a lot more than even that._

 _If you're still reading, congrats! And thank you, that was a lot. ^^;_

 _ **Thank you for reading, everyone, and for your patience!**_


	12. Part XII

_**A/N:**_ _Hey, look, I'm getting to it on time this week! 8D_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part XII

…

The forest, if it were possible, only grew darker the further Suga and Sakuma walked. The trees drew closer, crowding the travelers, their branches tangling together in a drunken lattice hung through with wild, hair-like mosses. Their steps fell to a path that was less and less defined from the wilderness, which picked its way uncertainly through a forest of disapproving, ancient trees. Their way led further from the village and further from the old glowstone guardians set around the edges of the forest, deeper into the heart of the woods and up the infant slopes of the mountain.

Suga took no note of his surroundings, save where he placed his feet and to keep the figure of Sakuma and her gently bobbing light in his sight. He followed her, trusting that so long as she remained confidant of their direction that she was following her senses without issue, and kept a good grip on the hilt of his glowing katana. Otherwise Suga was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the cold and the wet.

 _Shii-chan_.

How had she found her way back to Azakawa? He had been sure that he had taken apart and locked away all of her memories of the village, including all of those of her childhood that she had somehow recovered before. He could recall distinctly feeling and experiencing each of those memories with her as he guided the prism of the glowstone to them, as they were shattered apart and flung to disparate parts of her mind, a puzzle she would not be able to solve on her own. She would not even know there was a puzzle to _be_ solved.

He could remember how she had struggled to hold on to the memories he was pulling away from her, how aware she was of what she was about to lose, the helpless anguish as she watched it all disappear for a second time.

 _She is safer without me_ , he had thought at the time.

And yet she had still found her way back. Had he missed something? Had he lost his objectivity and overlooked some vital component, rendering all of it incomplete and apt to crumble? Had he missed some physical clue that would lead her back to her childhood home? He had taken the photograph she had brought with her, the one of herself as a child, her parents and her grandfather standing outside the old mansion that was the Kanzaki home, and which had the name 'Azakawa Village' written on the back. That had been the clue that had brought her to the museum the first time. While staying at the museum she had mentioned, during one of her bouts of talkativeness, that it was the only real hint she had to any family beyond her parents. Had she been wrong, and there _was_ something else that would lead her back home?

Suga thought back to those times, those few days that Shii-chan had spent at the museum and filled the silence with her voice. It had been out of nerves on her part, he knew, an attempt to drown out the awkwardness of spending time in the same room with a mute for a companion. For the majority of the day Suga would leave her to her investigations, holing himself up in his office, where she would have no business going, and they could avoid seeing each other for most of the day. It was ostensibly to stave off the awkwardness and allow her privacy for her investigation, but also because he found it painful to be in company with a childhood friend who did not remember him, who knew him only as the strange manager of a dying museum.

Mealtimes were the one exception he made to his self-imposed isolation. He bore no illusions as to his own culinary talents, but he could hardly leave Shii-chan with _nothing_ to eat, could he? His food might not be the most palatable, but surely it was better than an empty stomach?

He had come to simultaneously look forward to and dread mealtimes. It was the perfect excuse to spend time in Shii-chan's company without feeling as though he were intruding on her, to look on her and marvel at how the passage of a decade had changed her, and at the same time had utterly failed to change anything of import. She had become a tall, stylish and very pretty young woman, the rebellious and sometimes boyish glint in her eye softened by an awareness of her own femininity, reflected in her speech and how she held herself. And yet her spirit was the same as it ever had been. She was headstrong and determined, as shown in her coming so far to seek out family with only an old photo as a guide, in how well she held herself together after abruptly finding herself alone in the world, in the way she stood up to the Councilman in defense of the museum - a place she had nothing but an official connection to, so far as she knew.

Shii-chan was still Shii-chan even after so many years, and after the horrible thing he had done to her. He had felt relieved, and then guilty for that relief.

He loved to listen to her. The museum was always so silent, the collection of years past as voiceless as he, entombing him in a history none cared to remember. More than once in his time there he had thought how both of them, Suga and the bloody past of Azakawa, would be best off forgotten forever.

Shii-chan's voice chased away the dust and the melancholy reflections. Her lively chatter brought warmth, life to the old place again, and for the first time in a long while Suga felt as though he had blood running through his veins instead of ice water. She spoke simply to fill the silence, but Suga could have listened to her for hours without once tiring of what she had to say. Whether it was school, her parents, what she had uncovered that day, he listened to all of it greedily, committing every word and nuance to memory, her every movement and expression burned into his mind's eye. He hoarded memories of her as she was now for later, for after she left and he was alone in the silence again, to take them out and treasure so perhaps he wouldn't feel quite so cold in his own skin. So he wouldn't be so alone.

He could remember every word she had said, and not once had she mentioned anything besides the photograph he had taken from her at the station. It must have been some error in the memory suppression. Some slip of his that had begun this mess all over again.

He would only have himself to blame when he had to face her again.

He gritted his teeth at the thought. It would have to happen, if for no other reason than to confirm how she had found her way back to Azakawa, eliminating that pathway and - for the third time - violate her mind to save her life.

It was his duty, his promise to do so, and he would uphold both so long as he still had life in his body… but how would he bear it? How would he face her again, how _could_ he stand to look her in the eyes and pretend that he did not know her? It had just about broken him to do that once, to be the stranger that he ought to be, when all he could think when he looked at her was how she was the one person who had always accepted him, that she had never teased him for how easily he would cry, for how he looked, or for his fondness for flowers. To do it all again, to send her away _again_ when all he wanted was to keep her close… he might truly shatter to pieces this time.

He glanced over his shoulder, just able to see the handle of the umbrella and the very beginning of its yellow and orange canopy, rolled up tight. He tried to imagine his life, once again removed of all touches of Shii-chan's brightness.

Hadn't he been broken enough times?

In his mind the line of people he had treasured and ultimately been forced to give up paraded by. His mother, never known but loved all the same; his father, distant and distracted, but still held so dearly; the Kanzaki family, old Keiichirou, his son and daughter-in-law; all of them so caring though he was not a Koutarou… all lost one by one. And Shii-chan. His most precious friend, taken away not once but twice.

Would he never be allowed to keep any of those he loved?

His foot caught on a tree root, making him stumble and the light of his lamp tilt through the trees crazily.

Suga bore his teeth in a silent snarl. It was a sign of just how tired he was, of the toll all of the work he was putting into the stones was having on his body. He had allowed himself a measure of sleep before venturing out, thirty minutes all to himself, but whatever he had gained from that was swiftly wearing thin. He could continue for some time if he had to, he could push his body to some extreme limits, but his precision would be compromised, and would only get worse as time went on. To be of the most use to Shii-chan, they would have to find her soon.

For the first time in a while, Suga took a close look at their surroundings, trying to pinpoint their exact location. He was surprised, when he was finally able to recognize where they were, just how far they had come. Suga had only been so far into the forest himself a few times, and then only in the daylight, during the driest of months.

He slung his sword across his back beside the umbrella, and took out his memo pad and pen. He wanted to know exactly what it was Sakuma was following. He didn't doubt that she was following _something_ close and correctly, but it might not be the _correct_ something in order to find Shii-chan. Again, the thought crossed his mind that Sakuma needed training. It was obvious her talents were too strong and present for her to ignore; to leave her in her current state was dangerous. Sakuma deserved to be prepared and ready for whatever her talents opened her up for.

He only got so far as the fifth word in his note when Sakuma suddenly halted, forcing Suga to do so as well. He stopped writing, curious, and without turning the girl addressed him.

"Do you know, I find that sound, that sound of a pen scratching over paper utterly detestable? _Scritch, scritch, scritch_. Like spiders in a matchbox… But then, it's the only sound you can ever hope to make, isn't it?"

Suga stared at Sakuma's back, dumbfounded. Sakuma had never been one to curb her tongue when she had something to say, but she had never been intentionally _hurtful_ before.

His cheeks flushing with embarrassment and confusion, Suga let the silence run with only the falling rain to fill it, uncertain of how to respond to such a poisonous verbal attack. When it became evident that Sakuma would say no more, and with, as she pointed out, no other way of communicating, he set pen to paper again, crossing out what little he had already written and beginning a new line.

Memo pad and pen flew out of his hands, the lamp he only barely managed to hold onto, and the world tilted crazily as it swung in his fingers. Suga stared at Sakuma, his hands stinging from the slap she had dealt them, mind gone blank with shock.

In the dancing light Sakuma's twisted, grinning expression became only more grotesque. She looked up at him and there was a cold cruelty in her eyes that was both foreign and familiar.

"Is that all you are, detestable one?" She asked with mock sweetness. "An empty shell full of nothing but crawling insects?"

Realization slapped Suga like a second blow. He knew that voice, and it did not belong to Sakuma Miyako. It was the voice of the Kotori Obake, the same as when he had heard it as a child.

He reached for the hilt of his katana - too slow. Sakuma's hand flashed out, caught his wrist, and with impossible strength twisted it until it felt on the verge of snapping. Suga cried out soundlessly and fell to his knees, the pain flooding his mind and cancelling out all thought. Through the haze he caught sight of the girl's wrist, of the bracelet he had fashioned for her.

Every stone upon it had shattered.

The Kotori Obake looked down on him with Sakuma's face, her smile twisted into a sneer of disgust, as though what she saw personally offended her.

"Still as you were and even worse, are you not?" She said with Sakuma's lips. "Forever an eyesore, a tiny blight of pestilence upon the land. Do you know, not a day passes that I am not grateful that it was only your voice that I took? If I had taken all of you, then I would have to see you constantly, so near to me." Lips wrinkled back from teeth. "I would have to _smell_ the stones on you."

Suga stared up at her, looking for some sign that Sakuma was still fighting for control of her own body, but saw nothing but the blank, hungry stare of the _yaksha_ that had taken her mind. He jerked his arm, trying to break away, but it was like trying to break the grip of death. For his trouble his wrist was twisted into an even more severe angle. Suga gasped, his head falling in submission, the lamp dropping from the stricken fingers of his left hand.

The light flickered, and then died. The night swallowed them whole, only the weak glow of the unreachable sword on Suga's shoulder battling the darkness.

He couldn't see Sakuma standing before him, but he could feel her, could feel her breath as she leaned close to him to whisper with the Kotori Obake's voice into his ear.

"You will be disposed of, repulsive creature, so none must suffer your existence any longer. And soon, very soon, _she_ will be mine." The voice softened, becoming sickeningly sweet. "My cute, cute, adorable child, at last. Last of the Kanzaki line. She will repay what was taken from me, grandchild of my killer. So innocent with the blood of murder in her veins. I can feel her now…"

Suga's heart stopped. If the Kotori Obake could sense Shiori, then-

"She's so cold, poor darling. So very cold and frightened, hiding in that hole, that priest's nest lined with scrolls… But she will not be cold much longer. I will warm her…"

In the darkness, Suga's free hand moved slowly, silently. It was a horrifying idea that floated in his pain addled mind, but Shii-chan… _Shii-chan…!_ She was in danger!

Sakuma's lips brushed Suga's ear. " _I_ will protect Shii-chan, whore-son. And she will know what it is to feel truly safe with one who loves her."

It was like a supernova went off, with bright pain arcing from his fingertips to his shoulder. He could feel the bones of his wrist straining, succumbing to the intense pressure put on them.

The questing fingers of Suga's left hand found what they sought, and with no time left, Suga lashed out straight ahead of him. A vicious blue arc cut through the dark, following the unseen motion of his arm. A scream, part ogre and part child, part Kotori Obake and part Sakuma Miyako, pierced the night and cut into Suga's heart.

Then all was darkness and stillness. Only Suga's breathing gave harsh counterpoint to the pattering rain. There was nothing from the Kotori Obake, nothing from Sakuma.

After a full minute with no sound other than himself, no sign of further attack, he allowed himself to move from his defensive crouch. In his left hand he could make out the shape of the glowstone knife he had strapped to his ankle. It was little more than a sharp shard chipped from some other piece of work and fitted to a handle, but Suga had learned to keep a spare weapon with him. He could also make out, along its sharp, glowing edge, dark red clinging to it.

Suga's stomach turned at the sight. Using the light of the dagger, he found the overturned lamp, righted it, and after a few moments struggle managed to relight it.

The first thing to meet his gaze as the amber light reached out again was Sakuma's body, laid out on its side, face hidden in equal parts by dark hair and by blood.

Suga dropped the knife to the mud, his fingers all gone numb. What had he done? Was this also to be his fate, to be a murderer of children?

He went to Sakuma's side, lamp in one hand, and carefully pushed back the hair from her face. The rain washed her cheeks, and Suga saw with dizzying relief that all the blood came from a deep cut across her right cheek. She still breathed, her eyes closed, apparently unconscious.

Suga breathed deeply for a moment, offering up a prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening, and then added another for Shii-chan and Mochizuki-kun's safety.

Sakuma was unconscious, but a knife cut wouldn't answer for that. Suga could only hope that the Kotori Obake had been driven out. A sudden exorcism would answer for the girl fainting, and it _had_ been a blade of night glowstone that had cut her. He would continue to pray, just in case.

Now he had another dilemma to add to his collection: what to do with Sakuma. He couldn't leave her here, obviously. He had to get her somewhere safe and protected, where she would stay put until they could be sure that the Kotori Obake was completely exorcized. To be absolutely certain would take time, and he had none of that to spare. The ogre said she knew where Shii-chan was, which meant she would soon be with her. However, if Suga had wounded her with his blow to Sakuma while she was being possessed, that might give him a little more time.

He still had to find Shii-chan himself.

Suga thought hard. The Kotori Obake had given a hint where Shii-chan was. 'A hole that priests had once used.' That almost certainly meant a cave, one of the many the mountain could boast, but one that had a lot of scrolls…

Suga gathered up his knife and re-strapped it in place. As gently as he could he gathered up Sakuma into his arms and picked up the lamp with two fingers he could spare. He took one last deep breath and began to move as quickly as he could through the dark and with a middle school girl in his arms.

There was one cave he could think of that matched the Kotori Obake's description, and it lay along the same route as a good place to leave Sakuma for a while. He just had to hurry.

…

Even with the not-light-as-air Sakuma in his arms, it hadn't taken as long as he had feared it would to get back to his workshop. They had been deep in the woods, but the amount of time it had taken to get there had been the result of a lot of circling on Sakuma's part that Suga had totally failed to notice at the time. The path back from where they had ended up was comparatively quick.

And where better to keep Sakuma for a while than in his workshop? It was dry, relatively warm and out of the wind, and most importantly it was a place with possibly the highest concentration of night glowstone around. Even when discounting what was either degraded or had yet to be refined, Suga's workshop was full of the glowstones he had been working on and was therefore the most spiritually guarded place around. It was exactly what Sakuma needed.

The trick would be in getting her to stay when he wasn't there to enforce the rule. He had no delusions that she would have the good sense to stay of her own volition, even with the recent examples she had as to why doing just that would be a very good idea. It seemed to be a running theme that Suga be surrounded by people who insisted on doing exactly what they ought not to do, and what they ought to know better than to do.

So how would he keep her from wandering off? He had a door, but it had no lock. It barely had a frame, truth to tell, so locking her inside was out of the question. He had no individual rooms in his cave, so there were no internal doors to lock her behind. With no locks to rely on, he had had to improvise.

This was why he was checking to make sure that the knots he had made in the rope tying Sakuma to his bench chair were tight enough to hold, but not so tight as to cut off the girl's circulation.

It was ridiculous, but what else could he do? She had to remain where she would be safe, and this was the only way he would be sure that she would. She _would not_ be caught again in the Kotori Obake's snares.

In the meantime, he had a mission with a clear objective to attend to.

He offloaded his heavy pack full of stones - they would be more useful here with Sakuma and would lighten his burden considerably, but kept his katana, knife and pocket full of chips. His memo pad and pen remained in their regular pocket. He hoped he wouldn't need them, but he wasn't willing to try his luck. He also kept Shii-chan's umbrella - without thinking too hard on the reasons for doing so - and topped up the oil in his lamp.

Those minimal preparations done, he went back out into the rain, silently apologizing to Sakuma as he left.

As he closed the door behind him, he hoped for Sakuma's sake that he didn't die, so she wouldn't starve in there. Realistically, he knew that they might all die out here with no one in the village having any idea of what happened to them.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Ah, Suga. So much angst. Also, headcanons abound!_

 _ **Thanks for reading, everyone!**_


	13. Part XIII

_**A/N:**_ _It's about time for these two crazy kids to get back together, isn't it?_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part XIII

…

It was so cold. So cold that it felt as though tiny sprites were biting at the tips of her fingers, toes, ears, and nose. So cold that the plume left by an exhaled breath hanging in the air could almost become a real cloud and start showering snowflakes.

Shiori laughed in delight, dug her gloved hands into the snowdrift and flung up her arms, setting it all into a new flurry tumbling to earth. She laughed and spun in the tiny blizzard she created, and shrieked when a stray clump slipped down the back of her collar and ran along her spine beneath her thick winter coat.

Another laugh rang out in the frozen air as Shiori danced and wiggled, trying to get the handful of powdered ice out of her clothes. She snapped her head around to see a small, dark haired boy staring at her with wide, pale, _guilty_ eyes, both hands clamped over his mouth. His hands might have stopped his laughter, but they didn't hide the corners of his smile.

Shiori scowled, and then grinned. She bent down and scooped up another double fistful of snow and began to pack it into a ball.

The boy squeaked and took off running, his ridiculously tall boots making his progress slow and clomping. Shiori giggled and gave chase.

She was faster than the boy and had a wicked arm, but none of the snowballs she threw actually hit the retreating back. She knew if she actually struck him he would start to cry, and then she would be in trouble. So all of her missiles flew harmlessly wide, landing in the snow with muted thumps as the two children ran around the wide backyard of the Kanzaki mansion.

When they tired out, they both collapsed into the snow, panting baby clouds into the clear blue sky. Shiori laughed when she had the breath to do so, and stretched. This was a much nicer way to spend a winter afternoon than stuck in a stuffy schoolroom and learning multiplication. Arms and legs already sprawled out in the snow she industriously began making a snow angel. Beside her, she heard the boy follow her lead. She got up and carefully added a halo with her finger. It came out a little wobbly, but that was okay. The boy's angel was wobbly all over. She grinned at him.

"Suga-kun, let's make a snowman next!"

Suga smiled, his pale cheeks flushed a bright red in the cold, the back of his black coat and pants caked with snow. He nodded. "Okay!"

They got to work, each rolling up large balls. They wound up with two very large balls that wouldn't stack together, so they decided to make two snowmen, using both balls as bases. Back and forth they scurried, rolling up snow, fingers and faces growing numb in the cold.

Neither one cared. Today was a day of fun, of freedom from school and math and bullies, a day for playing outside until they were soaked and shivering, and then running back inside for hot chocolate and snacks. This was what days were made for.

When they finished they each had a snowman as tall as they were. By unspoken agreement they each tried to make their own snowman look like the other; so Shiori had a Suga-snowboy and Suga had a Shiori-snowgirl. Shiori had trouble getting snow-Suga's eyes to look right, and the nose was too big. Suga-kun had much more luck on his snow-Shiori. Even the hair looked right.

"Suga-kun, that's really good!"

The boy looked at her, surprised, and then ducked his head, blushing. "Thank you," he said, very quietly. He glanced at the likeness of himself Shiori had made. "You, too."

She knew he was mostly being nice. Hers wasn't as good as his, but she grinned proudly anyway.

She turned back to her snow-Suga, ready to begin working on the mouth - a little smile, she thought - and froze.

Something was wrong with her snowman. The face was sagging, and getting worse even as she watched. The face slumped into a senseless, featureless mass within seconds, melted snow running like tears down snow-Suga's face. A few seconds and the whole head was tumbling off the wilting body to splash into the water that was filling the yard, already up to her ankles.

"Wha-?"

She stepped away, panic fluttering around her heart, and tripped over her own feet. When she landed it wasn't into snow, or even into several inches of water, but into a pond, a lake, an _ocean_ of freezing water, with no bottom her feet could reach.

Shiori kicked for the surface out of pure instinct. Her head broke the surface and she gasped for air, her mouth almost filling again with the tossing waves and the sudden rain that was beating down. Shiori stared around, unable to understand what was happening.

Everything was gone. Her yard, her house, the snow, the mountain in the near distance, the village - all of it replaced with a dark sea, its heaving surface rough with waves and driving rain.

Before she could even wonder at the _hows_ and _whys_ of this impossible change, she heard something rise above the roar of the storm. A voice calling her name.

"Shii-chan! Shii-chan! Help!"

She looked around and saw Suga-kun, a dozen feet away and struggling to stay above the water. It was never something she had ever wondered or needed to know: could Suga swim?

"Suga-kun!" She stroked as best she could towards her friend, but the odds were against her. She couldn't swim very well, and the water weighed her winter clothes like lead, dragging her under. The sea was determined to keep them apart, the waves pulling them in opposite directions. No matter how hard she swam, Shiori was getting further away from Suga, not closer. She could still see him, though, could still hear him as he sank lower and lower, his cries uneven as water washed over his face, into his mouth, choking him. A swell rose between them, and all Shiori could do was listen to Suga-kun's terrified screams.

"Help, Shii-chan! _Shii-chan!_ "

The swell lowered down again. Suga was gone.

The breath of her lungs not already stolen by cold and sea left her. Suga… Suga was gone.

"Suga-kun!" Shiori swam, stroked and kicked with all her might, clawing against tides and dragging clothes, one small child fighting the might of the sea to save her friend.

There was no sign of the boy, no sign of anything. Shiori was all alone, her limbs quickly failing as the cold sapped the strength from her body. The water slapped at her chin, her nose, and she realized that she was sinking. Soon she would be with Suga-kun.

It was almost a living thing, the sea. It pulled at her, dragged at her as the rain did its best to beat her down below the heaving surface. Water got into her mouth, choking off her own useless cries for help.

She was so numb she almost missed it when something really _did_ grab hold of her ankle. She had just enough time to wonder what could have grabbed her in the ocean - was it Suga-kun? - when it pulled her under completely.

It was calm underneath the water. There was no roar, barely any sense of being tossed back and forth. It even seemed a little warmer to be totally immersed. It was a welcome change. Shiori was so tired from all of her struggles, she could almost have relaxed and let herself drift awhile, just until she felt stronger, and then she would find Suga-kun and they could go home for hot chocolate…

Except for the lack of air, and the now painful grip on her ankle pulling her down.

Shiori kicked feebly, not to swim, just to get whatever was attached to her to _let go_. It hurt, and she needed to _breathe_.

Something touched her ear, something _breathed_ beside her. Her mind screamed at the impossibility - how, _how_ could something breathe _underwater-?_

" _There you are,"_ a voice, warm as grave soil, sweet as rot, whispered in her ear. _"My cute, cute child. I've found you at last."_

An arm as strong as the sea wrapped around her in a steel embrace. Shiori screamed, a cloud of dark bubbles erupting from her mouth, her voice crushed under the weight of the waves, her lungs filling with the freezing sea of rain.

…

Shiori woke slowly from dreams of snow and memories of drowning.

She was cold, she ached, and it was still hard to breathe. For a moment she wondered if she had brought the nightmares out of sleep with her. Then she decided it hardly mattered. She was surrounded by the stuff of nightmares no matter where she went, awake or asleep.

Why had she woken up? She was still so tired…

She was cold, but there was one part of her that felt warm. Her left cheek, for the first time in what felt like eons, was warm, brought back to life by something touching her, something that felt like a brand against her icy flesh. That warmth had been what had woken her, what had saved her from drowning in a dark sea. A warm guide out of the icy water.

Trying to open her eyes felt like trying to move boulders with only her fingertips. Her lids resisted every bit of the way, and again she thought of how much easier it would be just to sleep. But no, she had to know where that warmth came from at the very least. What had saved her from drowning?

She won the struggle. The flashlight she held clutched in her hands had finally given out, low batteries or too many hard knocks extinguishing its light, but somehow Shiori could still see - see well enough to make out the dead flashlight and her fingers wrapped almost convulsively around it. It was a warm, amber light that lied as it shone on her flesh, making it seem rosy, not corpse-white as she knew it was. Also caught in the light was the outline of what looked like… legs, bent and folded beside her.

Shiori tried to frown, and with a massive effort began to lift her hand, following the shape of the form that was beside her. Legs led to a waist, a torso and an arm that held a flickering lamp in a pale hand. The other arm was lifted towards her, the hand lain on her cheek. That had been her guide back to the waking world. Finally his face, half in light, half in shadow, all in earnest, watchful anxiety-

Suga-kun.

Their eyes met, and an ache in her chest eased. What had begun with the return of her memories was completed with the presence of Suga, with his touch.

 _Suga-kun, my precious something._

She managed a smile, and a little of the terrible worry in Suga's face eased.

"Suga-kun… you jerk… Said… you'd call me." She managed a chuckle at the end. It sounded like the dying laugh of the wind, but it was a laugh all the same.

Suga started at the sound of his own name. When he frowned, his eyes asking the question she knew was in his mind - _did she really remember?_ \- she nodded wobbly.

His eyes were the same color of night glowstone, she realized. A pure, pale blue set in a pale face. She wondered why she had never made that connection before. But unlike the glowstones, which Shiori had always thought of as cold, Suga's eyes held too much kindness to be anything but warm. Like the palm of his hand on her cheek.

"Suga-kun," she said, enjoying the sound of his name. She smiled. "You l-look terrible."

The man started again, and then began to smile. He shook his head, put down the lamp, and pointed at her. 'No. You.'

She managed another chuckle. "Charmer."

Suga's smile grew wider, and his warm glowstone eyes began to shine with the welling of tears.

Suddenly he seemed to remember himself, and shook his head to rid himself of the tears. He fixed her with a far sterner stare than before, his brows low and the corners of his mouth turned down. It might have been her own exhaustion, but Shiori still thought he looked as kind as ever, even with a scowl. With her memory intact, she didn't think he could ever look fierce to her.

The hand at her cheek was taken away, and Shiori abruptly felt much colder than before. Such a little thing, but the touch had made her feel so much warmer.

Suga was digging into one of his pockets, the lamp set on the rocky floor. Also set beside him, on his right side, was a sword of glowstone, shining softly in the dark. She was surprised to see it. Hadn't Suga's katana been broken the last time she had been here?

He found what he was looking for and brought out a small rectangular tablet of yellow memo paper and a pen. In the light of the lamp he wrote out a note, tore it off the pad and handed it to her.

Shiori had to convince her fingers to let go of Mochizuki's flashlight before she could take the note, and when she did her hands were so unsteady that the meaning of the words eluded her. It wasn't until Suga cupped her hands with his that she could understand what he wrote.

'We must leave. Danger is coming. You and Mochizuki must leave _now_.'

She began to nod in agreement. _Yes_ , they did need to leave this place, the sooner the better and thank you. It took a moment for her to recall, for her mind to start running properly and really remember where she was, what she had been doing, and why she _couldn't_ leave. Not with the ritual unfinished.

"W-We can't," she said, a little of her resolution fighting its way through the cold. "W-We have t-to finish this, st-op the Kotori Ob-bake."

Suga was already writing another note, held it out for her so she could read it without her trembling hands blurring the words.

'There is nothing we can do. We must leave or we will all die here.'

She shook her head. "N-No, there is! Suga-kun, d-do you kn-know how the Kotori Obake came to-to be? Why she st-steals children?"

Another note. 'Of course. Revenge on Azakawa.'

Shiori shook her head again, anxiety making her trip over her words as she came more and more awake. "No, n-not that. Not _only_ that. Bef-fore she died-d she was a p-prisoner. She had chil-dren. Part of her p-punishment was that they were bo-both killed. Suga-kun, she takes children because she's trying to re-place the ones that were taken!"

The frown on Suga's face deepened, and then he shrugged. That was clear even without a memo. 'So?' It didn't matter _why_ the Kotori Obake did what she did, only that they _not_ be on the receiving end of it.

She took a breath. It hurt. "When you c-came in, did you see the casket in the other r-room?"

After a moment, Suga nodded.

"That casket has the b-body of the Kotori Obake's ch-child. Whoever was he-here before began a ritual that w-would purify the body and return the s-spirit of the child to its mother. With her _real_ child back, the Kotori O-bake could re-rest in peace. It could all be over!"

Shiori grinned. Voicing the plan aloud, rather than making it seem ludicrous and impossible, made it seem much more tangible than before, more achievable. Suga, however, still did not look convinced. The frown remained, his eyes searching her minutely. He broke the stare only to write another memo.

'How can you be sure of this?'

She shook her head, a tiny stab of annoyance pricking her. He of all people was having trouble believing what she said? "M-Mochizuki-kun and I found some o-old journals. Th-they explained everything. Suga-kun… the child spirit _spoke_ to me. H-He helped me recover my memories. I- I think he even called me back to Azakawa. To help."

If anything, Suga looked even more incredulous. Not annoyance any longer, Shiori felt a tiny stab of fear. If Suga didn't believe her, if they left without completing the ritual, then nothing at all would change. She would have come back all for nothing, and she would be sent away again. Suga might take her memories again.

The thought of that terrified her almost more than the Kotori Obake.

She reached out, dropping the memo Suga had given her and clutched at his sleeve. He looked alarmed at the move, and tried to pull away, but Shiori refused to let go. "Suga-kun. This will work. We can put the Kotori Obake to rest. This will all be over. No more children will go missing. I won't have to forget everything again… I _can't_ forget everything again."

…

Suga could feel himself wilting under her stare, her words swaying him more than he wanted to admit.

To be able to give up the mantle of the Ogami-san, and not through selfishness but because there was no _need_ for one… that was a dream to take his breath away. No more lost children, no more hollow-eyed parents, no more having to wonder if they were better off not knowing, or if he ought to tell them where it was the children had wandered and why they would never come back. But, most importantly to Suga, if the threat of the Kotori Obake was neutralized, then Shii-chan would be safe. He need never worry that she would someday be taken by the _yaksha_ , made one of her cabal of spirit children… and that she would one day fall to his glowing blade.

Shii-chan still stared at him. She looked so very tired, even more tired than he felt, and he had barely slept for several days. He had thought he was cold, but under his touch she was like living, breathing ice. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, her hands were scraped and cut, even her nails filthy and chipped, all of her clothes were soaked, mud spattered and torn. She looked as though she had marched, stumbled and crawled her way through hell, and somehow she was still willing to stand up again if it meant a chance for this all to end.

And Suga could see something more, something even more telling than the dark circles or the paper white skin. It was a strain, deep in her eyes and set in every line of her face; an on-the-edge, about-to-break-into-pieces kind of strain of one who had endured more than they could take but who refused to stop. It was a look he recognized. He'd seen it in the mirror.

She wouldn't be able to bear the loss of her memories a third time, he could see that. Faced with her, he didn't think he could bear what he had been through again, either. It might kill them both.

Very gently, he removed Shii-chan's icy fingers from his sleeve and wrote a memo. Shii-chan watched him anxiously, biting her lips as he wrote. When he held out the pad for her to read, her whole face relaxed, and she let out a huge sigh. Suga's heart felt a little lighter.

'What do we need to do to complete the ritual?'

For a moment Shii-chan closed her eyes, a few of those lines of stress he had noticed softening noticeably. "Suga-kun…" She said softly, like a blessing or thanks.

When she opened her eyes, there was renewed determination in them again. She looked more like the Shiori he knew from childhood.

"We were almost f-finished before w-we were attacked-"

Suga twitched involuntarily, and Shii-chan stopped. He stared at her and turned up a palm, asking that she explain. After a moment, she seemed to understand.

"We were attacked by th-the children. O-One of them got Mochizuki-kun." She motioned to the unconscious policeman resting on a bed of broken pine branches. "H-He seems okay for now."

Suga nodded. He had checked on the officer when he had come in, before going to Shii-chan. Despite having been attacked by a ghost and the fact that he didn't wake when Suga touched him, he seemed in better condition than Shii-chan. He motioned at her.

She blinked at him. "N-None got to me. I'm fine."

He snorted at that, giving her a look to be interrupted as his disbelief that she was anything like 'fine.'

Shii-chan gave him a look, pursed lips and a raised brow. It was an expression he was not accustomed to. It was oddly charming.

"Anyway," she said. "We were almost… finished when we were s-stopped. Everything is done except getting the casket to the… stone pedestal. You remember? Down the hall in that room right before the one with the t-trapdoor into the museum."

He had to think for a moment before he remembered what she was talking about. At the time he had had other things on his mind and hadn't paid much attention to a low structure of stone with no apparent purpose. He nodded.

"We have to put the casket on that pedestal. That's all that's l-left."

That was all? It was so simple; Suga had to wonder why the priests had failed to complete it. There must have been something more vital that Shii-chan and Mochizuki-kun had done before being attacked, or else they _would_ have finished on their own. Wouldn't they? Surely they wouldn't leave something like the Kotori Obake to roam if they had the means to stop her.

He certainly wouldn't.

He wrote Shii-chan a memo, holding it for her since her hands trembled so violently. They would have to finish whatever they did quickly, he thought. Both she and Mochizuki needed attention, rest, and warmth. And Sakuma would need to be released from the cave as soon as possible, as well.

Shii-chan squinted a little in the dim light to make out what he had written.

'Understood. I will leave some glowstone with you to barricade the door and move the casket.'

Suga was already reaching for the knife at his ankle to hand to her as a ward against any spirits when a very angry exclamation stopped him. "You will not!" When he looked up in surprise Shiori was scowling at him. "You are n-not going out there without me. You're not leaving me here alone!"

Returning her scowl, he tore off the last memo written and began to write another. He was interrupted by Shii-chan laying her hands over his. He was physically shocked by how cold they were. It was like being touched by a corpse.

"D-Don't even t-try to argue with me about this, Suga," she warned. "You won't win. I'm n-not letting you out of my sight again. What if something h-happened to you while you're out there and I'm stuck in here? Do you know what that would do to m-me if…" she trailed off, her face pained. "And I wasn't there… to protect you?"

Suga swallowed hard. This really was the Shii-chan he remembered from childhood. She was still trying to protect him even when she was ready to collapse. It was hard to even think of an argument when everything she said could just as easily have been said by him. And what she said raised an interesting point: What if something happened to _her_ while he was gone? Glowstone would help, but it was no guarantee. He would much prefer to have her under his eye at all times, but that would mean she would have to come with him. That presented its own problems, but he _would_ feel better with her close by…

'Fine. We will leave glowstone for Mochizuki-kun. He should be safe enough.'

From the limited stock that he had with him, Suga decided to leave a pocketful of beads with the officer. They were small, but they were well crafted and could be spread as a barrier. Suga exploited this feature to the fullest and scattered beads all around Mochizuki, the little orbs disappearing into the pine braches with muted rattles. He left a few more near the door, and hoped that it would be enough. The Kotori Obake and the children spirits would have no real reason to go after Mochizuki-kun, save that he was present. With much more tempting targets in the form of himself and Shii-chan dancing around in the open, he should be ignored.

Suga had to help Shii-chan to stand. She wobbled uncertainly, feet set wide and arms held close to her body for warmth. When he watched her questioningly, unsure of how long she could remain upright on her own - and how he was meant to move the casket _and_ help her walk - she lifted her chin and nodded, stubborn to the end.

Pride fought with frustration in his heart. After all she had been through, his childhood friend was as much herself as ever, ready to fight back even as her body was ready to give up. And yet it was that exact characteristic which made it so difficult to protect her.

A thought occurred, and before he could think the better of it, Suga unstrapped the knife from his ankle and handed it to Shiori, hilt first.

She stared at it as though she had no idea what it was. Then, slowly, she reached out and took the knife. The light it cast was caught in the deep brown of her eyes, the blue shining in them like the flickering of a spirit in the night. Suga hated giving Shiori a weapon, hated that it was at all necessary for her to be armed, but facts were facts. They were going into a dangerous situation, and he might not be able to protect her if it came down to a fight. She had to be able to protect herself, and if things got a lot worse than he hoped they would, it would be a good idea if she could defend him as well.

The casket was heavier than it looked and surprisingly loud as Suga dragged it across the floor. The noise of stone scraping against stone bounced around the cave, and though he knew that sound had no effect on the spirits, he couldn't help but worry that it was attracting them.

Shii-chan followed alongside and slightly ahead of him to light the way with his lamp, the knife held tightly in one hand. She walked slowly, still trying to keep her body curled into a ball as she moved, meaning that she did so in a sort of sliding shuffle. Suga kept a close eye on her as he dragged the casket from one room into the next, and while he didn't really _like_ what he saw, it was better than he would have expected. She might be cold and close to collapse, but she was still watchful, shuffling but never stumbling.

They moved from the room to what passed for a hallway, where the sound of a small waterfall competed with the casket scraping the stone floor. Here the space was more open, and they stayed as close to each other as they could manage.

Suga almost expected for something to be waiting for them when they arrived. The trip through the hallway had been ominously quiet to his way of thinking, and memories of the last time he had been in this room, when he had fought off an approaching hoard of spirit children, still rang loudly in his mind.

But the room was as cold and empty as the rest of the cave system. Nothing appeared as they approached the pedestal in the center of the room. The only evidence that anything out of the ordinary might occur, or had ever occurred, were a few long fragments of night glowstone scattered over the floor, dead and dark, and an empty hilt. It was Suga's old sword, the one he had swung until it had finally been drained dry and shattered in his hands.

He didn't let himself remember the minutes just before the sword had broken, the number of times he'd had to bring the glowing arc to bear, how many spirits disappeared because of him.

It was difficult work maneuvering the casket to the top of the pedestal. It was heavy, but worse was how awkward it was. It would have been easier with more than one set of hands, and back when this place had been occupied perhaps there would have been. Now it was just him and Shii-chan, and he wasn't going to ask her to try lifting even part of the weight in her condition.

The casket was wrestled into place with many silent grunts. The sound of the stone settling on stone echoed around the chamber.

They stood and stared at it, Suga trying to catch his breath.

"Is… is that it?" Shii-chan said eventually. She sounded like she couldn't believe it.

He couldn't blame her. After all they had gone through, how much damage the Kotori Obake had wrought over the years, how could it all be stopped just by putting a small coffin on a stand in a cave? Surely there had to be more to it than that? Some sort of sign that things had changed? He shrugged his confusion, too winded to write out a reply, or to even think of anything to suggest.

The light swayed around the room as Shii-chan shifted. "I wish there was something to let us know it worked, at least. Some-"

She cut off abruptly. When he looked around, nothing seemed to have changed, but Shii-chan was absolutely frozen, staring at nothing. Then her eyes flicked up to catch his, she exhaled, and he saw, he _felt_ what the problem was.

Her breath was pluming in visible clouds. The temperature had suddenly plummeted below freezing.

Suga drew his sword, focused his flagging mind, his eyes darting from place to place around the chamber. Shii-chan drew closer to him, the knife ready in her hand. He wished there was some way to keep her behind him, partly protected by his body, but there was no telling from which direction the threat would come.

That it _was_ coming there was no doubt.

" _My cute, cute child…"_

Shiori inhaled sharply, and Suga swung himself around to face where the voice had come from. There was nothing to see, only blank stone and the door they had come through.

" _You came back to me…"_

The tip of Suga's katana twitched, his eyes following along with the motion. Unconsciously he reached out to Shii-chan with one hand, herding her back behind him.

Slowly, the form of the Kotori Obake came through the wall, blooming through the stone like a morbid mushroom. She wore a white kimono, shining and pearlescent save where it was stained dark, arterial red. Her black hair was long and unbound, hanging in tangled snarls all around her face. Where her robe fell open at her throat, it was possible to make out the dark lines of her ribs and sternum beneath her dead skin. Her nails were long and broken, eyes hidden behind her hair, but her terrible smile could still be seen.

Behind him, he felt Shii-chan shiver. His grip on the katana tightened.

" _My adorable, darling child,"_ she said, her voice watery and cold, _"here you are. Time for you to come home with me."_ She held out a hand, barely more than bones and skin, her wrist a slender, emaciated branch in the sleeve of her kimono.

She seemed determined to ignore Suga, standing between her and Shiori. Face set in a scowl, he stepped even more directly between them, so the specter had to look at him, and raised the glowing blade of his sword.

The smile of the Kotori Obake disappeared, her lips turned down. Without seeing her eyes it was hard to tell, but she seemed to be staring at him, considering. Then she raised the hand she'd held out to Shiori and made a very firm swipe across her body, as though she were swatting aside an annoying insect.

Pain flashed through Suga's entire body, knocking the wind from his lungs and making a galaxy of stars flash before his eyes. Benumbed, his fingers lost their grip on the katana hilt. When his vision cleared, he looked up, coughing, and found himself slumped on the floor, across the room from where he had been standing, his back against the wall. He gasped, fighting to draw oxygen back into his lungs. Had she always been able to throw people across rooms?

Shii-chan still held the lamp in one trembling hand, lighting the center of their drama very well. She was looking at him with wide, horrified eyes, only to be pulled away when the Kotori Obake moved a little closer, her skeletal hand held out to her once more.

" _Come. Come. Come. Come with me, my sweet, sweet child."_

Shiori retreated before the approaching spirit, the sliver of the glowing blue knife rising up defensively, wavering in the darkness. Her eyes were so wide, her skin so pale, she looked as though she would fall to the floor at any moment. Suga tried to get up, commanded his hand to take up the sword and for his legs to move, but his body only gave the most sluggish of responses, limbs twitching and shifting, but not really moving.

"You- You can't have me anymore!" Shii-chan's voice trembled all along with the rest of her. "I'm not a child anymore, you can't have me!"

It was hard to see, but Suga thought the Kotori Obake's smile widened even further. He redoubled his efforts to make his rattled body respond.

" _Oh, my poor dear,"_ she purred. _"Have you forgotten? The promise that stands between us, it gives me the right to your life for-ev-er. So long as it stands, you belong to me."_

The talon of a hand shot out, sending the knife flying out of Shii-chan's hand and clattering across the floor. Then the hand was on Shii-chan, wrapped about her wrist in a white vise grip.

Shii-chan screamed. The sound cut through Suga, gutting him.

He poured all his strength into getting up, managed to push up to his knees. His ribs felt like they were on fire, but he couldn't let Shii-chan be taken. Not then, not now, not ever, the monster spirit would not have her! He would die before he let the undead witch take his friend away!

"Suga-kun!" The Kotori Obake was pulling Shii-chan, now, pulling her away from the casket on its pedestal, away from the room, away from Suga. It was slow but inexorable, the spirit apparently expending no effort dragging Shiori along by her arm, though the girl was struggling with all her might. She shrieked again and dropped the lamp, which miraculously did not go out when it hit the floor. She reached back to him with her hand.

" _Suga, help me!"_

" _Shii-chan!"_

For a moment, it seemed as though time itself had frozen in the cold cave. In the moment it took for the echoes of that final shout to die away, Suga had time to wonder where it had come from.

Then the Kotori Obake turned slowly to face him, her ink black eyes finally visible as they turned a disbelieving stare on him, and Suga realized that the shout had come from _him_. He touched his throat. Even Shii-chan looked dumbfounded.

" _How do you speak?"_ The Kotori Obake's voice was ice itself hanging in the air, frozen crystals grinding together in a vicious snarl.

Suga opened his mouth, but no sound came out. In a way it was a relief.

The black eyes did not leave his face when he failed to speak a second time. In fact the Kotori Obake retraced her steps, coming back into the room and toward him. Shii-chan still struggled against her every step, but her resistance one direction was just as ineffective as it had been in the other.

As she neared him the air temperature plummeted further. She came so close that he could see the lines of her face, feel the cold damp of her breath.

" _Your voice is mine, detestable one. How. Do. You. Speak?"_

He felt himself being drawn into the black of her eyes. It was like the time when he had been a child, out in the forest in search of his mother, and had found this woman instead. Her eyes had drawn him then, as well, beguiling him to stay even as the words she said repulsed him. It was like falling into clinging darkness, all light around him slowly fading away as he became lost in her eyes. His sword was far away, beyond the reach of his fingers.

He wondered as he fell if he would become one of the spirits of the forest, and if there was enough forgiveness in the world for allowing it to happen not only to himself, but to Shii-chan as well.

Light shards broke through the world of darkness. The Kotori Obake drew away, and it felt as though he had been tossed across the room for a second time. He blinked away the confusion to see the woman spirit twisted around toward the source of the sudden light.

It was coming from the casket.

The casket, just large enough for a child's remains and made of stone, was shining with a white light, brightening the whole chamber. Suga had to squint against it, and as he did he could make out a shape in the center of the light.

The shape of a child.

" _Mother."_

The Kotori Obake twitched violently at the gentle voice. Suga thought he recognized it.

" _Mother. I'm here now. Let's go home."_

It was something Suga never thought he would ever see, but the Kotori Obake looked confused. _"Home?"_

The child seemed to smile. _"Home, mother. Finally. We can go together."_

Shiori and Suga both remained frozen, watching the drama play out, certain that if they moved or spoke the spell would break and they would be remembered. The Kotori Obake almost seemed to remember them in any case, half turning back towards Shii-chan, her grip on the girl's wrist tightening, but the child caught and drew her attention again.

" _Please, mother? I've been so lonely without you."_

The Kotori Obake trembled in place, another thing Suga had never expected to see. Slowly, she released her hold on Shii-chan.

For a moment she stood frozen, watching. Then, as the Kotori Obake went to the waiting child, she staggered over to where Suga still sat on the floor, sinking down beside him and taking hold of his arm. Suga returned the pressure, glad to have Shii-chan away from the _yaksha_ and beside him again, and watched as the two spirits shared a reunion of their own.

As they came together, the two spirits melded into each other, and it was the brightness of the child that overwhelmed them, rather than the sullen, bloodstained luminescence of the mother. In fact the light inside the cave grew until Suga and Shii-chan had to turn away from it.

When Suga was able to open his eyes again, there were some significant changes to the players of the drama before them. He prodded Shii-chan, who had yet to open her eyes, and pointed.

Wrapped in a warm, soft light stood a woman, perhaps in her late twenties, clothed in a simple green kimono, her hair twisted into a loose bun, holding a small child in her arms. The child was small, tiny really, no more than two. He clung to his mother, face buried in her shoulder. The spirit that had been the Kotori Obake gave a smile, and it was one of contented happiness.

They began to fade from sight, their light fading with them, when the chamber was suddenly filled to bursting with the jostling spirits of children. Suga and Shiori were practically pressed into their corner, but they were not the focus of the spiritual mob.

" _No!"_ a chorus of childish voices rose together in imperfect unison. _"She is our mother - our killer - she promised - promised - she is_ _ **ours!**_ _"_

The mob of children became a swirling vortex, with the mother and child trapped at the eye of the storm.

Suga sat, morbidly fascinated by what was taking place before his eyes. The spirits of the forest were taking their revenge upon their killer, while at the same time claiming her for themselves. He wondered what it was that caused that role reversal, turning the victims into attackers. Was it because the Kotori Obake was now purified, and the power she had wielded over them was dissipated? Because the children themselves had each been twisted into something irrevocably dark in their years as spirits… were the children just in so much pain that they wouldn't let go of the mother they'd had for all that time?

Shii-chan shook his shoulder. "Suga-kun, we have to do something or they'll be torn apart!"

She was right. The mother and child were being attacked relentlessly, torn apart by fingers and teeth, something like screams coming from them. Grimacing, Suga forced himself up, using the wall as a brace, Shii-chan pulling at one hand.

 _And here I am,_ he thought, shaking his head, _about to protect the creature I was sworn to protect others_ _ **from.**_

The knife he had given Shii-chan was long gone, too far away to be recovered now the room was full of children. Much the same problem existed for his sword, the path to it blocked by several of the spirits at all times. With two options for glowstone gone, he only had one left to try.

He reached in his pocket, took out a fistful of glowstone chips, and flung them into the crowd of spirits. Each one glowed with its own radiance, and each one flashed as the light of the mother and child caught at its edges. As they flew into the mass of spirits they shattered as their powers were drained, and it looked like a shower of flower petals falling amongst the spirits.

It took every stone chip Suga had, but the spirit children dissipated, screams of despair lost amid the screams of rage. When the last of them was gone, all that remained were the mother and child, huddled together before the stone casket. Before long, they too faded from sight.

…

The flickering light of the lamp was the brightest thing left in the room. Its guttering amber flame was just enough to pick out the shape of a stone pedestal, atop which rested a stone casket, carved with sutras. Across the floor chips of stone glinted back out of the dark like fallen stars. Far off in one corner lay a short, sharp sliver of glowing blue stone, while in another corner a larger blade shone back, a communication of light between brethren.

Light was all the communication that took place in that chamber. Where moments before it had echoed with the cries and screams of the long dead and still suffering, now all was silence. Even the sounds of patterning rain and running streams failed to reach this place.

Moving carefully and not a little painfully, Suga picked the lantern up from the floor. He noted that two of the glass panels had cracked and would have to be replaced. It was a small thing, a manageable thing that his mind felt reasonably able to cope with. It preoccupied him, kept him from having to grapple with the large questions that demanded answers, but which Suga was far too exhausted to attempt. Perhaps the largest and most immediate, which broke through his attempts to ignore, was:

 _Is it really over?_

The very shape of the question felt strange in Suga's head. The possibility of all of this, of everything he had formed his life around suddenly coming to an end was something that had never entered his thoughts; not as anything but the most far flung of fantasies. To be abruptly faced with the reality of it… Suga's whole being refused to process it. For the questions that naturally followed the first, such as 'what happens now' and 'what happens to _me,_ now…' those were problems his mind refused to even acknowledge.

"Suga-kun?"

He started, turned his eyes away from the tiny dancing flame where he'd allowed them to fall. Shii-chan still sat on the floor, watching him. Ragged and tired, ready to drop, she somehow still managed to smile.

"I think I would like to go home now. Back to the museum. I'm feeling… a little tired."

He smiled back and nodded. He hesitated, then cleared his throat.

"… yes."

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Two more chapters to go, people, one full chapter and the epilogue!_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	14. Part XIV

_**A/N:**_ _Well, here we are. Only two chapters left to go. It makes me sad, actually._

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Part XIV

…

Steam rose from the cup, curling in the cool air before spreading out and dissipating, lost in the early morning light.

Shiori held the teacup in her hands, fingers curled around the curve of the bowl, forgoing the handle, allowing the delicious warmth seep into her flesh. She didn't think she would ever undervalue the simple contentment there was to be had in drinking a hot cup of tea. Even the soft, steady song of the rain on the roof brought a kind of satisfaction that was completely new, filling her with peace, stillness.

She smiled to herself, taking another sip of her drink. Just yesterday she had thought the sound of rain anything but relaxing. It had grated against her senses, a harbinger of inexplicable voices in her mind and dread. Now… it didn't seem to bother her anymore. Now, save for a mild ache at the remembrance of her parents' death the steady pattering brought, it settled rather than unsettled her, and helped her to sort through her thoughts.

There was a lot to sort through. Apart from all of her most recent experiences, which were certainly deserving of quite a bit of thought, there were all of her restored memories that she had lived so long without. All of her childhood memories were hers again, the long gulf of her life filled up. She could remember living here, in the museum that had been her family's home, with her parents and grandparents. She could remember going to school, running around the village with other children her age, getting into trouble when she got into fights with the boys and having to explain to her parents that it was _fine_ because she had been _winning_. She could remember cooking in the kitchen with her father, her mother helping her with homework, dim memories of her grandmother gardening in the front yard before she had passed away one autumn, her grandfather showing her the history of their village and their family's role in it. So much of her life that had been lost was hers again. So many memories of her family were hers again. Any memory she could keep of her parents were particularly precious.

She stared out over the forest and felt no apprehension, only nostalgia for when she had viewed it with a sense of curiosity and adventure. She doubted that the feeling would last forever. She was just too tired to be frightened for now, especially when there was nothing left to be frightened of. She had crossed those stormy seas and reached the dead calm on the other side. Doubtless when she was completely rested and all of the events of her life were allowed to settle into place, she would begin to be wary again.

But for now the forest was just a forest where it happened to be raining, and it was peaceful.

She took another sip of her tea. Suga had made it for them; Mochizuki, Sakuma, Shiori and himself, last night and again this morning. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was hot, sweet, and a little nutty. He couldn't cook but he could make very good tea. It warmed her up right to the tips of her toes.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned, and smiled again.

 _Think of the devil._

Suga-kun stood in the doorway to the little porch off the back door where Shiori stood, his own steaming mug of tea in his hands.

Shiori appraised him. He looked loads better this morning than he had the night before, but then, Shiori would have been downright alarmed if he still looked as rundown as he had then.

After helping her back to the museum, he had opened up the back passage between the museum and the caves and hauled up the unconscious Mochizuki himself. Shiori had been in no condition to help and Suga-kun wasn't allowing her to even try. Once he was safely in the building and wrapped in several blankets - just as Shiori had been when they got into the building - Suga had surprised her by leaving again. It was almost an hour before he came back, half leading and half carrying Sakuma-chan. She had been conscious but not really coherent, her mumbles alternating between apologies and sharp-tongued reprimands. She too had been bundled up in blankets and put onto the soft couch with the rest of them.

Even then, Suga-kun had not stopped. He had drawn a lukewarm bath for Shiori, the tub not quite full, and left her to soak. To her icy skin it had been hot, and she had nearly fallen asleep in the tub. Suga's knock had roused her enough to wrap a towel around herself and come out, and Suga-kun had promptly rewrapped her in blankets and shoved the first mug of tea into her hands. From that point events became even hazier as she fought sleep, but she was sure much the same routine was repeated with Mochizuki-kun and Sakuma-chan, with a bit more first aid and supervision in Mochizuki's case, as he only barely opened his eyes when Suga-kun tried to rouse him.

Suga-kun had spent practically the whole night nursing them, plus who knew how much he had gone through before finding them in the caves, and yet he was up just as early as anyone else. None of them had slept late. Perhaps it was a lingering effect of their experiences.

But Suga-kun did look a little better. The overly bright shine of his eyes was gone, the tension in his neck and shoulders had relaxed, and there was even a tiny bit of color in his cheeks. He was wearing his customary all black clothing, all the way to the house slippers, but this morning he was wearing a thick turtleneck sweater. He felt the need to bundle up as well, it seemed, but had drawn the line at walking around with a comforter wrapped around his shoulders like Shiori was doing.

Silently, Suga-kun nodded towards her, asking permission to join her. She nodded back just as silently and stepped to a side, giving him room.

And then there were two of them, gazing out at mountain and forest, listening to the rain whispering through the branches.

"It seems so peaceful now," Shiori said, finally breaking the silence.

Suga nodded, still looking out over the forest.

"I suppose it _is_ peaceful," she went on, feeling the need to fill the silence now she had begun. "With the Kotori Obake reunited with her child, I mean. Now there are no monsters to be afraid of, it's just another forest, like any other. It feels weird, though, like something is missing. I'm glad she _is_ gone, but still… it feels a little hollow now, you know?"

After a moment, Suga nodded again.

This was another thing that felt weird, as though something were missing. She had regained her memories of her childhood and of all the days she had spent with a quiet boy who liked to pick flowers. She had regained her friendship with Suga-kun. She felt closer to the man standing beside her than she did anyone at her school, including Rin, with whom she shared practically everything with. She had shared secrets with Suga as a child, beaten up bullies for him, and they had each risked their lives for the other. There was no one else on the planet with whom she _could_ feel closer.

And yet there was this awkwardness between them, a thin curtain that separated them from what they had once shared as children. They were grown now, more than ten years had passed since they had last seen each other. Shiori had lived those years without even the memory of who she had once been and what friends she'd had to influence who she became. And Suga had stayed here, lived a decade in this village becoming and then acting as the Ogami-san after her grandfather had passed away. Those were experiences she had only a vague idea of. She didn't know just how much they were likely to change him. She couldn't be sure who this person was any more, or how to act around him.

A small square of yellow hove into Shiori's view. There was writing on it.

Shiori looked over at Suga. He was resolutely staring straight ahead into the forest, note held out to her. There seemed to be a little more color in his cheeks than there had been a moment before.

Shiori took the note. 'How are you feeling? You didn't sleep very long.'

"No," she agreed, running her thumb over the words Suga had written. The pressure from his pen had scored the pattern of his words into the paper. "I guess I didn't. I feel like I've slept for days. Though I think I could sleep for a few days more. I must look awful."

The corner of Suga's mouth twitched, and the redness in his cheeks most definitely deepened. He shook his head.

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she took another sip of tea to cover the awkward moment. She looked at the memo he'd handed to her. "Why are you still using memos, Suga-kun? I thought your voice had come back."

Abruptly Suga looked down into his mug, its contents fascinating. It had been some time since Shiori had seen him this bashful. Not since they had both been kids, those old but new memories. He didn't look up at her again, but just shrugged.

Shiori smirked, suddenly feeling bold. Perhaps it was the familiar sight of Suga-kun being bashful that brought out the urge to tease. "For so long I had all those voices going on and on inside my head with no way to stop them, no way to get away from them, and now I can't hear the one voice I miss the most. Hardly seems fair to me."

The blush on Suga's cheeks spread all the way to his ears and down his neck to be lost from sight beneath the turtleneck. For a moment he became a center of fidgets; his feet shifting, his fingers tightening around the mug, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Shiori felt rather proud of herself.

Suga cleared his throat and, still staring intently into his mug, "Speaking… feels strange. It will take some practice."

His voice was as she remembered it, gentle and spoken very softly, almost a whisper, though it was deeper than it used to be.

"Good. So long as you promise to try." She grinned at him. "I _know_ your promises are good."

Suga nodded, and then stopped when he caught the look she was sending him. He licked his lips, cleared his throat again. She wondered if he cleared his throat in order to remember where his voice was. "Yes, Shii-chan."

Shiori smiled, happiness filling her.

…

Suga smiled back, happier since… well, since almost as long as he could remember. It still hadn't quite sunk in, really, everything that had happened yesterday and all that it would mean, but that was alright. He could feel happy without fully comprehending all that had happened.

The first thing to become accustomed to would be the thing of least importance, of least impact to anyone except to himself. Having a voice again after so many years was bizarre. He had never been talkative as a child, but there had been many times over the last decade when he had wished he could speak, if only to save his hand from cramping from writing out everything he wanted to say. Now, against every expectation, he had his voice back, and everything about it was strange.

For a start, he wasn't at all sure that he _liked_ the sound of his own voice. It didn't match what his thoughts sounded like, which were nearer to how he had sounded as a child. After ten years he sounded more like his father, which was uncomfortable. Less uncomfortable but even more distracting was how it _felt_ when he spoke, how thick and clumsy his tongue felt, and the sensation of his vocal cords vibrating. He didn't think he would ever be able to tune out the tickle in his throat, and the possibility of slurring or stumbling over a word made it harder for him to risk speaking. He knew how to write words, could shape them perfectly well with his hands, but his tongue had to relearn them all.

Perhaps most embarrassingly, though, he was a little frightened of his ability to speak. He opened his mouth, and who knew what might tumble out of it? He was used to quiet and control, being able to think out what he said, and to look it over before passing his thoughts on to another. Now when they came out, they were _out_ , with no way to edit or recall them.

Speech would take a lot of practice to get used to, but Shii-chan was right. His promises were good. He would practice.

"Suga-kun?"

Suga jumped, startled out of his thoughts. Shii-chan was still staring out into the forest, frowning at the trees. "Why is it, do you think, that your voice came back when it did? Once the Kotori Obake was put to rest, I understand that, but you spoke _before_ she was purified. How did that happen?"

This was something which Suga had given some thought, as well. As much thought as could be squeezed around all the rest of his tasks since regaining his voice, at least, and he'd settled on an answer that felt right.

"I think," the words tumbled out. Suga stopped and cleared his throat, putting his thoughts in order before beginning again. "The ritual worked, but took time to take full effect. The curse of the Kotori Obake was beginning to break… so the promises were beginning to break." He took a breath. That was a long speech for him.

Shii-chan nodded thoughtfully, her eyes not really seeing anything that was in front of her, Suga was sure, not even her tea when her gaze fell down between her hands. She bit her lip, and Suga had to lean closer to catch what she said, it was so low. "Why me, Suga?" He tilted his head questioningly, realized that this was a nonverbal response and was about to correct his mistake, but Shii-chan went on. "She could have given up on me, found someone else to take, but she _hounded_ me. Why?"

Suga sighed. Again, it was something he had wondered about himself, but he'd had years to consider this problem. He'd long ago decided that he would never know the answer for certain. The motivations of spirits and _yaksha_ were wholly their own, run by their own twisted logic and unlikely to be shared with anyone. He had collected plenty of theories over the years, any one of which could be the truth, or just as easily none of them. Something the Kotori Obake had said to him the night before, though, while she had possessed Sakuma's body, made one stand out as much more plausible than before.

"Possibly because you are a Kanzaki. Your grandfather… he said things from time to time. Things that make me think your ancestors were more than Ogami-san to the Kotori Obake."

The sound of rain filled the gap between them.

"'More.' As in we did more to the Kotori Obake than protect the village from her?" She asked the question of her cup, perhaps hoping to find an answer in the tea leaves.

Suga nodded, his throat tired from so much unaccustomed exercise.

"Such as making her that way in the first place?"

Again, Suga nodded, at a loss for what to say. He wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but unsure of what he could offer.

Finally, Shii-chan sighed. "That makes sense. Knowing what she went through before becoming the Kotori Obake, it's a little hard to really hate her."

On that point Suga couldn't completely agree, so remained silent. _He_ could still hate the Kotori Obake for all she had done over the years, all of the pain and terror she had inflicted, while still feeling a small stab of sympathy for her. What had befallen her _was_ horrible, but it did not pardon all of those children she had taken to share in her suffering.

But Suga's chief concern, as always, was Shii-chan. From the faraway look in her eyes he could see that the idea that it had been an ancestor that had created the Kotori Obake in the first place, that she shared blood with one so cruel disturbed her deeply. It would take some time for her to process and come to terms with it. Suga would ensure he was always near, if he could, to lend an ear if and when she wanted to talk. That's what friends were for, right?

"I've been thinking," she announced, in a tone that said she was saying something she felt she _had_ to say. "About what I'll be doing from this point, what will happen to this place, things like that. I'm still enrolled at college - or at least I was when I left. I should get back to that and save my grades while I still can. I don't know what your plans are, if you wanted to keep the museum or if you wanted to leave now there's no Kotori Obake to guard, but there's going to be paperwork either way." She smiled. "Now that this is all over, you probably _do_ want to get as far away from this place and anything to do with ghosts as possible. I wouldn't blame you."

It felt as though Suga had been kicked in the gut. The reality of changing circumstances was suddenly shoved in his face whether he was ready for it or not.

Leaving Azakawa Village had never crossed his mind before, ever. The closest his imaginings had ever come was if the Council were to succeed in taking the museum from him, where he could go and still carry out his duty as the Ogami-san. That one day he would no long be _required_ to act as the Ogami-san… that had only ever been a very brief possibility in his mind. Without that duty to either bind or guide him, what was there for him to do? What did he _want_ to do, rather than _have_ to do?

Did he _want_ to do anything?

All that came to mind when he asked himself that question was to remain near Shii-chan. And she said she would be leaving again…

"I-"

"You don't have to answer now, Suga-kun." Shii-chan turned a bright, brittle smile on him. "A lot has happened, a lot has changed, and I, uh… I think I need to take some sick leave from school - and from work - catch up on sleep and everything. We can… we can figure stuff out over the next few days."

"… what do _you_ want to do, Shii-chan?"

The smile faded, and Shii-chan looked up at him without the mask of cheerfulness or bravado. For a moment she looked as tired as she must have still felt, a raw swirl of confused emotion playing in her eyes.

"I don't know."

Suga's stomach did a flip, but before he could reply, Shii-chan looked down into her cup and turned away. "My tea is cold," she said. "I'm going to… get a fresh cup."

Without looking back, Shii-chan went inside the mansion, her steps quicker than a fresh cup of tea would warrant. Suga stood, watching her retreating back, the sound of falling rain in his ears as hope warred with uncertainty in his heart.

With only the rain left to hear him, he whispered, "I don't know, either," and followed Shii-chan inside.

…

"… exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid when I sent you home-"

"And the fact that you think I couldhave stayed at home while knowing what was going on out there just goes to show what a _fool_ you are-"

"I know you're sensitive and protective, Sakuma-chan, but-"

" _Don't_ you call me 'chan'-!"

"-but once out there what could you have done? You're not Suga-kun, you couldn't even defend yourself, let alone-"

"Oh? _Oh_? And what could _you_ have done, Mr. Policeman? Were you going to _shoot_ the spirits if they attacked? At least _I_ could feel them coming instead of running around completely blind!"

"And very much good that seemed to do you."

" _You_ -!"

" _A-hem!_ "

It was the third time Shii-chan had cleared her throat in attempt to break apart the argument between the officer and the girl. On this third attempt she also waved a hand between their faces, breaking the furious eye contact between the combatants. Mochizuki looked up at her and Suga with a slightly abashed expression, probably embarrassed to have been bickering with a fourteen year old so seriously. Sakuma was still scowling, though that softened somewhat when she saw Shii-chan. When she looked his way, Suga let his gaze drop to the floor.

After waking and receiving another cup of Suga's tea, they had each gravitated to their own areas. Shii-chan had wandered out to the back porch to look out at the forest, while Sakuma and Mochizuki had found the living room couch a more comfortable place to sit than at the kitchen table. Now together, the four of them made quite a family picture.

Suga was the only one wearing his own clothes. The clothes everyone had worn during the night were all soaked through, and hadn't had enough time to dry, so Suga had provided everyone with kimonos and robes that had been packed away in the attic. They were a little stale, but dry and warm. Since Suga lived at the museum, there were plenty of his own clothes. Sakuma and Mochizuki sat in robes, looking like a well-to-do family on a lazy day at home, and Shii-chan was bundled against even slight chills with her blanket, though underneath she wore a borrowed kimono as well. Technically, they all really belonged to her anyway, as heiress to the mansion and all it contained.

Unless she decided to give it all up.

Now she stood as near as possible to between the two bickering children - well, one child, one a 'respected' law enforcement official - without climbing onto the sofa with them.

Shii-chan was looking between the two of them, the picture of a disapproving mother, one hand holding her tea cup, the other holding her blanket closed. "What on earth have you two found to start fighting over already?"

" _He_ ," Sakuma pointed at Mochizuki-kun, completing the image of a pair of children being scolded by their mother, "is saying that he won't let me go home unless he _walks_ me there!"

Mochizuki-kun sighed, a little theatrically. Suga wondered if he was aware that he was adopting a little of Sakuma-chan's mannerisms. "I only meant that I _should_ go with you, so I can explain to your parents where you were last night."

Sakuma gave the policeman a blank look, one brow rising. "Really? You were going to tell my parents that we spent all night fighting the forces of evil in the forest?"

Mochizuki-kun, who looked as though he had been ready to retort, stopped abruptly. He blinked. "Well… no. Not when you put it like that."

The young girl rolled her eyes. "Idiot."

"We've already taken care of Sakuma-chan's parents, Mochizuki-kun," Shii-chan put in before the argument had a chance to resume. "We called them before you woke up and told them that Suga-kun needed her to get the museum ready for after he got back. She forgot to mention it to them yesterday, and didn't want to disturb them this morning, 'as she was leaving,' so we were calling to let them know where she is."

"Thankfully it's only a half day at school today," Sakuma put in. "So they don't care so much about me playing hooky to 'help out' the manager."

Mochizuki frowned. "I don't like lying to your family, but you're right. There's not much choice. But," he tilted his head at Sakuma, who leaned away from the abrupt scrutiny, "how are you going to explain that cut on your cheek?"

Sakuma brought up her hand to her right cheek where a neat row of butterfly bandages marked where Suga had cut her with his glowstone dagger. Given their rather harrowing adventures of the night before, none of them looked all that worse for wear. They were all tired, but not many injuries showed. Suga's ribs still hurt him, particularly if he bent or tried twisting at the waist. Mochizuki was still unsteady on his feet, with a possibly strained knee, but he could walk alright if given a hand up to stand. Almost none of Shii-chan's brush with hypothermia showed, and every major scrape and bruise was covered by robes and comforter.

It seemed almost unfair that the one who showed the most injury would be Sakuma, and that an injury that _Suga_ had inflicted on her. To his eyes it looked terrible, angry and red beneath the bandages, and very painful. An unavoidable reminder of what he had done to her - what he might have been forced to do if the situation had escalated any further.

"Oh, that's no problem," the girl said airily. "I can tell most of the truth and say that the manager got annoyed with me."

She held a straight face for a moment or two before she broke into a grin and glanced up at Suga.

He knew that she was joking, deliberately teasing him in order to make light of her injury and make him feel better… but it didn't help. He still couldn't meet her eyes, the floorboards suddenly becoming incredibly interesting. Even treating her face the night before, when she had been only half coherent had been incredibly uncomfortable. If she had been more aware and watching him as he cleaned away the blood and repaired the damage he had done to her face, damage that would be forever visible as a scar, he wasn't sure he would have been able to finish the job.

He was just getting ready to leave the room - perhaps he needed to refresh his tea as well, come to think of it - when Sakuma's voice, much quieter than before, stopped him.

"Manager, are you _very_ angry at me for coming into the forest?"

Without looking at the girl, he shook his head. He wasn't angry at her, not anymore. He had been when he had first seen her face in the light of his lamp, angry and disappointed that she would be so foolish as to chance the forest when he _knew_ she knew better. But now he couldn't muster the energy for anger. Now he was just upset she had been involved again. He was upset any of them had been involved again.

Apparently she could either see he had reservations or simply didn't believe him. "Look, manager. I'm sorry I caused so much trouble, but I _couldn't_ have stayed at home, not when the rest of you were in danger. And…" Here the girl's voice dropped so much that Suga chanced a look up. Now it was _her_ gaze that was downcast, avoiding _him_.

"And I'm sorry… for attacking you." She said it so softly the words were almost lost in the unceasing white noise of rain on the roof. "Part of the time I was aware of what was going on, and I was trying to fight it off, trying to keep her from taking control and hurting you. But I wasn't strong enough, and instead I tried to kill you. So… I'm sorry."

Suga stared, at a loss for words. He had never heard anything like an apology out of the girl before, so that in itself was unprecedented, but _what_ she was apologizing for left him more than a little baffled. In what way could she consider being possessed her own fault, beyond going into the forest? How could she feel any sort of responsibility for actions her body committed while she was not in control of it?

When she finally did look back up at him he saw that she was serious. It wasn't a set up to another one of her jokes; she really did feel guilty for what 'she' had done.

The focus of the room shifted from Sakuma to him. Even from people whom he felt reasonably comfortable with, so much attention all at once all at once was a bit much. He shook his head to show she didn't need to apologize, and her face fell, thinking he was rejecting her apology entirely. Slightly panicked, he shook his head harder, his ragged bangs flying out. Shii-chan and Mochizuki-kun were frowning at him, and he realized he would need to explain in more detail if he wanted to be understood.

He began to reach for his memo pan and pen, caught sight of Shii-chan observing the motion, and pulled his hand away. His cheeks already heating up, he cleared his throat.

"Don't… apologize," he rasped, fighting through the odd tickling sensation. "It wasn't _you_ that attacked me."

"But I tried to stop it, and it still happened!"

Suga shook his head again. "Not about… strength. You couldn't be expected to hold off the… Kotori Obake without training." He paused, feeling awkward. He wasn't used to comforting others, he wasn't at all sure he was doing it right. He had the vague notion he ought to pat her shoulder and say 'There, there,' but the thought only made him feel even more awkward. "I should be the one to apologize."

Oh, there it happened again. He opened his mouth and out tumbled words, eager to be released after being held back for so many years.

Sakuma frowned in confusion, an expression that was repeated on the other two watching them. "What on Earth do _you_ have to apologize for?"

Rather than point at her, he touched his own cheek in the place where he had cut her. "I scarred your face."

What he had done, what he could have so easily done if one of a thousand variables had come into play, was so much worse than just scarring a young girl's face, but that was all he could force himself to say. No other words would come out; they stayed firmly behind his teeth with so many listeners near.

To have his voice, and yet still be unable to speak, what irony.

"You stupid- …Suga-san."

Suga had looked away again, but glanced up in surprise at his name. That was possibly the first time Sakuma had ever used it. She was looking at him, violet eye to blue, small face set in a serious expression. She probably meant it to be serious, but her face combined with the kimono that was just a little too big for her small frame made her look younger, more child-like. When she spoke, though, her voice was very reasonable and mature. "I would rather have this scar on my face than to have lost my mind or my life. Alright?" When Suga hesitantly nodded, she smiled. "Good. And… thank you. For saving me."

Suga knew he was flushing. He could tell by the way Mochizuki-kun was smiling as he looked back and forth between him and the girl, and the mostly approving and slightly… sad? ... smile on Shii-chan. He was glad when Mochizuki-kun took away the focus by nudging Sakuma with his elbow.

"The scar suits you, anyway," he said, straight-faced.

All hint of maturity fled Sakuma as she rounded on the officer, face flushing angrily. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He shrugged innocently, one side of his mouth twitching. "It suits your tough girl attitude."

The girl sputtered, her entire face gone red in embarrassment or anger. Mochizuki laughed and ruffled her long hair.

Shii-chan smiled and backed away, no longer needed as a buffer between the two friends. She walked back to Suga, still wearing her little smile. "You really haven't changed at all, have you? After all that's happened, you're still worried about a little girl's face." She shifted, like she wanted to reach out and touch him, or punch his arm like she used to when they were kids, but stopped. Abruptly some of the awkwardness they had felt on the back porch returned. "You've grown into a good man."

There wasn't anything he could really say to that. He wanted to say that she had grown into a fine young woman, strong and smart and brave, just like he always knew she would. He wanted to tell her that he was proud of her, that he was glad she was safe, that he was happy, so, so happy to see her again, to hear her, and, as strange as it was to even think, he was happy that _she_ saw _him_. Maybe he just wasn't good with words, but he could think of no way of saying all of that to Shii-chan without tripping over his own tongue, so he remained silent.

They were spared too much awkwardness by Sakuma again catching their attention, once she got Mochizuki-kun to stop roughhousing with her. Her hair stuck up in a few odd angles, and a grin was plastered on her face.

"Hey, Manager-san. When you had me in that cave and, you know, _tied up_ …"

Suga flushed, but Sakuma was teasing again, and went on without waiting for a reply.

"Things looked awful interesting in there with all those tools and books and things. You said once that there was training you had received to hold off the Kotori Obake. Could you give it to me?"

Shii-chan turned to her, looking as surprised as he felt. "But Sakuma-chan, the Kotori Obake is gone, why would you _need_ training?"

"Yeah," Mochizuki-kun tapped her arm. "Why would you want _more_ of this creepiness if it's all over?"

Sakuma glared at the officer, then turned to answer Shii-chan. "Because it's not really through for me, Onee-chan. The Kotori Obake is gone, but I can still feel things. There are other spirits out there, and I would like to know how to handle… all of this." Violet eyes flicked over from Shii-chan to him. "So… can you do that, Suga-kun? I'm not likely to learn it anywhere else."

Suga stared at the girl, marveling a little at the odd turns of life. He had been debating with himself not long ago about the possibility and wisdom of taking Sakuma under his wing and training her as old Keiichirou had done with him. It had been a consideration not only to give the girl the tools she would need to protect herself, but to fashion her into the next Ogami-san of Azakawa. That, in all honesty, had been the main reason of why he had hesitated. He wasn't sure, even with all the good that would come with training, that he could live with putting the girl into the same role he lived every day. He wasn't sure it was a fair trade, and didn't want to coerce her into that position.

Now that position no longer existed. Any training she received would be completely for her, for her benefit with no strings attached. And she was even requesting it herself.

He blinked, closed his mouth that had fallen open in surprise and smiled. "Of course."

…

The smile that lit up Sakuma-chan's face when Suga-kun accepted was almost enough to light up that entire side of the room. Shiori couldn't help but smile as well. It was the first time she had seen the girl so happy, and she hoped it wouldn't be the last.

She found herself a chair to sit in - the weak excuse of refreshing her tea she had used to come back inside forgotten. Newly rediscovered memories continued to unspool in her mind, doing so all the faster as they were encouraged by her surroundings. She had been struck before by an odd sense of nostalgia when coming to the museum, the feeling that she ought to know the place without being able to pinpoint exactly why, but now her memories were returned there was a new sense of the strange attached to the place.

She remembered the building as her childhood home. Every corner of every room had a memory attached to it. She could practically see her parents overlaid in her vision, as though they were still there. She could almost see a child version of Suga, quietly playing on the rugs, and she could see herself, tearing through the halls until her mother told her to stop. Nostalgia was a living, breathing beast, curled up at her feet and filling the room with its contented purrs.

But beneath the ghostly afterimages of her memories, the museum was still in place. Counters and bookshelves where they did not belong, disrupting the flow of the past, transforming the space from intimate and family centered to official and public. Shiori didn't resent it, or Suga for having done it. It was a necessary change for the place to survive, but the reality of it was still jarring.

Still, it almost felt like family again now, with chatter and easy smiles all around her.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever get used to how your voice sounds." Sakuma wrinkled her small nose. "It doesn't really match the rest of you."

Suga seemed to be in a constant state of 'blush' this morning, but he smiled and ducked his head at the observation. Shiori hoped it wouldn't discourage him from speaking in the future. He was self-conscious enough as it was.

"Well, I like it," Officer Mochizuki put it. Out of the three of them, he looked the most comfortable in the borrowed robes, like he was spending a relaxed day at home. Shiori still hadn't decided if that was odd or not. "And I think it suits him fine. It'll just take some getting used to." He paused, looking thoughtful. "There are probably quite a few things we're going to have to get used to now, with all of the ghosts out of the forest. Things will be changing in Azakawa. Even the people who never believed in the stories will be affected."

Suga-kun nodded in agreement, and after a moment so did Sakuma. "True," she said. "People can go into the forest now and not have to worry about being caught and eaten by vengeful spirits. Do you think you'll be able to keep from warning every traveler to _stay away_?" She directed this at Suga-kun, her voice going into a spooky rasp at the end. Suga-kun only snorted at her, a tiny smile quirking his lips.

"You'll have to get rid of all those awful picture books you wrote to scare kids away from the forest," she continued. "And stop playing scarecrow on Halloween to make sure people don't go in."

Mochizuki chuckled as Suga-kun frowned at her. Shiori smiled as well. He tried to look so intimidating, and with many people it probably worked, but to her he would always be the boy of her youth. All of his scowls were pouts to her.

The other three continued to chat, Suga-kun mostly in monosyllables and body language, about how the village would be changing now that the Kotori Obake and the spirit children were all gone. As they did, Shiori let her thoughts run along her own personal situation and how _it_ would change.

In every practical sense, when she thought back to the life she was making for herself in the city, and how the disappearance of the Kotori Obake would alter any of it, she came up blank. Her new life was so disconnected from her old one that even something as monumental as this would leave it completely untouched. Save for some better nights of sleep with no whispers to keep her awake and improved grades as a result, nothing would change. There would still be school, there would still be her part time job, and there would still be her little apartment and her roommate, Rin.

But the more she thought about returning there, about letting herself be reabsorbed into those routines and cares, the less she liked it. Was that really the life she wanted for herself? It was a question she had begun to ask herself soon after her parents had passed away: was the path she had chosen one she would still be happy with several years in the future, or was simply more convenient to stay her course when there was no past to fall back on? Her mother and father had been her entire family, and her entire history. They hadn't even made much in the way of friends over the years, so there was no one who could stand in as a sort of uncle or aunt. Shiori was completely by herself, and it _was_ just easier to keep moving forward, even if she wasn't certain she wanted to. Where else was there for her to go?

But now she had a past. She had a place she could call home and return to if she wanted. She had a place that remembered _her_. Her parents were gone, but in this place she could still feel them, and that made her feel safe. She looked up at the trio of chatting friends. These people made her feel safe.

Suga-kun made her feel safe.

It was a tempting idea to quit University and return to Azakawa permanently. After so long and all of the terrors recently undergone, the idea of burrowing herself somewhere that was familiar and hiding from all responsibility was a powerful lure.

She was mature enough to realize what an immature response that was, though. Returning to Azakawa would be running away, and that was something she had never done of her own accord. She would return to the city, return to her classes and continue her life. Now she had a past she could return to if she liked, visit on her breaks and revisit old haunts. With a more solid foundation to her life, she might more easily be able to find a direction for her future; she could change her direction without feeling that it would all crumble away.

Except… She looked at Suga-kun, who was smiling softly as he listened to the others argue about the feasibility of summer festivals in Azakawa Forest.

Suga-kun would not want to remain here, not in the village that had always been cruel to him. He certainly wouldn't want to remain in the museum, the place he had been stuck defending for years. He would want to leave to some place where no one knew him and he could start over fresh. Quite frankly, he deserved it. He, more than anyone else in Shiori's opinion, deserved to be happy. And if leaving Azakawa Village behind was the way to do it, then she would help him pack.

If Suga-kun left, then the mansion would be empty most of the year. All things being equal, that wasn't a horrible a fate, but things were not equal. The old place was already showing plenty of places where it needed to be repaired, the third floor and roof in particular. It couldn't really stand to be left empty for extended periods of time without those areas being fixed up first. There was also the Azakawa Village Council to take into consideration, who as far as Shiori was aware, still wanted the mansion. Or more accurately, they wanted the land it stood on so they could build some sort of modern tourist attraction. The house they would demolish, finishing off what time had begun. Miles away for ninety percent or more of the year, Shiori wouldn't be able to hold them off, if she even could in person. She would need representatives and possibly lawyers to keep the rights on her own inherited property, and she didn't have the resources to make that practicable.

When Suga-kun decided he no longer wanted anything to do with the mansion, maybe it would be best to sell it to the Council as that raccoon-like man had suggested on her first visit and let them do what they wanted with it.

Shiori let her attention drift back to the conversation, apparently just in time for a question along the lines she had just been thinking of.

"… also this place," Mochizuki-kun was saying. "Will it remain a museum when it's no longer so crucial that people remember the Kotori Obake?"

"Just because she's gone doesn't mean we should forget about her," Sakuma-chan said, a little warmly. "That kind of thinking will only make it that much easier for the same thing to happen again in the future. The history of Azakawa is just as important now as it ever was. But, now that she _is_ gone and Onee-chan has her memory back…" Sakuma-chan looked over at her. "She can move back into her family home."

Suga-kun went very still, and it seemed to Shiori that his face went blank as well. Her mind mimicked him. "Uh, well…"

"It will be great to have someone living here again," Sakuma went on. "My grandma talks about when the Kanzaki Mansion was occupied all the time. And having _you_ living here will be wonderful, Onee-chan!"

Shiori had the sneaking suspicion that Suga-kun was actively avoiding her eye, now. No matter how she tried to get some idea of what he was thinking, he would not look her way. Which left her on her own to try and answer Sakuma's escalating assumptions. If only she knew how to answer.

"I'm, uh… I'm not sure how that's going to work, actually." She hated how uncertain she sounded, how weak and wavering her voice was. She'd battled ghosts and monsters, why was _this_ making her so nervous?

Sakuma didn't look as though she understood what Shiori said at first. Then a small line appeared between her brows, her lips bowed downward. Mochizuki, on the other hand, after looking between Shiori and Suga, seemed to understand what was going on. Shiori wished he didn't. He was the oldest out of the four of them, but she didn't like that he seemed to know what was going on when even _she_ wasn't sure. She wished that Suga-kun would look at her.

"What do you mean? Of course you want to come back. Don't you?"

At that moment Shiori would have given just about anything to sink into the floorboards. "It's not that I don't _want_ to," she said. "It's just, you know, I have classes. And a job. And a roommate who's probably wondering where I've gone. I just… I have to go back and deal with my responsibilities…"

Suga-kun was still staring dead ahead, the line of his jaw gone hard.

Sakuma frowned at her. "So if you didn't have those responsibilities you would come back to Azakawa?"

Shiori found herself wishing that the girl would just let it rest, stop hounding her and make her voice thoughts that she was still unsure of where everyone could hear them. With Sakuma practically glaring at her, waiting for an answer, Shiori opened her mouth, uncertain of just what was going to tumble out, when a loud knocking on the front door interrupted her.

Everyone jumped at the unexpected sound, and Shiori practically sighed with relief when Suga got up to answer it. Sakuma was still staring at her, though, so she knew they weren't really finished with this line of questioning, merely delayed. Mochizuki-kun looked at the girl and then at Shiori with sympathy.

The door opened and the sound of rain immediately got louder. The lobby where the three of them sat was within sight of the front door if they contorted themselves a little, but that wasn't needed. As soon as the visitor spoke, everyone knew who it was.

"Ah, Koutarou, I'm glad you're up so early! I'm afraid I have an update for you about the Council's position on the museum, and thought it best to come and tell you in person."

The frown on Sakuma's face turned into a full scowl. "It's Mr. Raccoon-Man!"

Shiori shushed her, and leaned towards the door to listen.

"The Council took what you and Officer Mochizuki had to say in the museum's favor into consideration," Mr. Raccoon-Man said, sounding like an oiled weasel. "While we are not insensitive to the many points you both raised, there is just too much working against you. To remember our collective past is a very worthwhile endeavor, of course, but when weighed against our collective future, a few books and displays are not enough. I really am very sorry," he went on with obvious relish, "but I'm afraid that you will have to find some other form of employment and-"

The Raccoon-Man cut off abruptly, almost sounding as though he were choking on his words. Shiori was rather pleased with how shocked he looked when she came around the corner, her blanket abandoned, and standing in the doorway wearing only the kimono like the mistress of the house. She rather liked that image and the instant authority it conferred to her, and decided in an instant to play it for all it was worth. "Good morning, Councilman," she said, realizing she still didn't know his name. "You'll pardon me for saying so, but it is not _only_ Suga-kun that you should be addressing when it concerns the future of this museum."

The Councilman stood on the doorstep, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

Shiori raised an eyebrow at him, an expression that her father would use on people with whom he was losing patience or who he thought were particularly slow. "In case you have _forgotten_ , this house is my inheritance, and _I_ will decide what becomes of it."

In her periphery, Suga-kun moved slightly to the side, giving her more room in the door. Shiori focused entirely on the Councilman. He was struggling to recover, and finally was able to snap his mouth shut and manage a few words. "Ah, the city girl has returned."

Shiori raised her chin, looking down her nose at the man, another expression of her father's. "That's right, the city girl. And from what I have been able to gather of what the Council wants to accomplish with this village, you'll _need_ a city girl."

Now the Councilman's brows rose towards his receding hairline. "Is that so? It was my understanding that you would not be laying claim to your inheritance."

"You understood wrongly. No paperwork has been filed to say I've given up my rights on the property, and I have every intention of claiming what was left to me by my grandfather."

There it was. She opened her mouth and out tumbled all kinds of things that had in no way been planned or accepted by her brain beforehand. She had no real idea of where she was going with this, all she really knew was that she couldn't stand the smug, self-satisfaction painted all over the Councilman's face, and she _really_ didn't like his condescension to Suga-kun. She wanted him gone and put in his place. _How_ she accomplished that was a detail.

By now the Councilman had recovered sufficiently to give a reasonable scoff. "Really? Even so, I fail to see why we would need a little girl to help up in the modernization of Azakawa." He lifted his chin in a mirror of Shiori, but didn't manage to look down his nose as well as she had, in her opinion. "I would have you know, Kanzaki-san, that the Council is doing very well on its own without the learned advice of some young woman who hasn't set foot in the village since she was a child."

Having the old man condescend to her was no better than his condescending to Suga-kun. Her vision hazed over slightly red in anger, but rather than exploding, she felt herself pulling inward, her anger narrowing to a point.

"Yes, I can see that the Council is doing _very_ well with its goals for Azakawa. They are doing _so_ well and bringing _so_ many people through the village that the bus has stopped running completely. The Council is _so_ forward thinking that there's nowhere in the village for visitors to stay overnight. The village is becoming _so_ well known that even maps that show every train station in the area barely have a little dot labeled 'Azakawa'."

The shade of red the Councilman's face turned was impressive.

Shiori crossed her arms, a move she took from her mother. "Let's speak plainly. The only reason the Council cares about the 'modernization' of Azakawa is to attract tourists, to bring in more revenue. There's nothing wrong with that, but you're going about it the wrong way."

"And how is that?"

"If you really want the village to become a place people will visit, then setting the village up to be like any other metropolis won't do much to attract anyone. Azakawa has to stand out from all other places if we're to prosper." Shiori took a deep breath. She was making this all up as she went along, but it felt right. She just hoped that it would still seem like such a good idea later on. "Azakawa should utilize its unique history to spark interest and draw people here. I intend to convert this building into an inn - a historically conscious inn. We will become the welcoming face of Azakawa, and it would be in the Council's best interest to support us."

"And now you presume to speak with authority on what is in the best interests of this village, young lady? An inn may be all fine and dandy, but who is to say that _you_ are the most qualified person to run it, _or_ that there would even be any guests to host, if, as you say, there is nothing to draw in visitors?"

"Azakawa's history is what makes it unique, what makes it interesting. That is what our draw to visitors will be, and I suggest the Council consider it. As for being the most qualified person to run an inn," she shrugged. "There's nothing that can't be learned, and as I seem to be the only one to even _consider_ offering visitors accommodations, I would say I'm already more qualified than anyone on the Council."

The red of the Councilman's face deepened until it was almost purple. Shiori began to worry that he would have a heart attack right on their doorstep. When he was able to speak again it wasn't in a shout, but it was a near thing.

"The welcoming face of Azakawa, is it?" Spittle flew out of his mouth along with the words. "Well, if _that_ is part of your welcoming face, then your foolish endeavor is doomed before it's begun!"

He pointed a trembling finger at Suga-kun, who was standing to the side and observing. Shiori's attention had been so narrowly focused that she had almost forgotten he was there. The Councilman's rude remark was a more than adequate reminder that the tall, quiet man was still there. A new rush of anger flushing her cheeks, Shiori opened her mouth to let loose with something that was probably going to border on the indecent.

She never got to find out what it was that was ready to fly out of her mouth. She never even got so far as the first syllable before her vision of the apoplectic Councilman was abruptly cut off by a black sweater.

Suga-kun interposed himself between Shiori and Mr. Raccoon-Man, so quickly that they were both taking a step back. Shiori took a step to the side, ready to berate Suga-kun for interrupting her when he again surprised her by bowing low to the Councilman. For a horrible moment she thought he was apologizing to the slimy, small town politician, that he was actually going to abject himself for _her_ behavior when she was far, far from apologetic. She was furious, but she had meant everything she'd said, and she would stand by it.

When he straightened, however, the smile on his face was not the smile of one asking for forgiveness. It was the smile of one about to make a point.

"Welcome to the Azakawa Village Inn, sir. May your stay be a pleasant one."

Mr. Raccoon-Man went a horribly ugly patchwork of red and white blotches as the color drained away from his face unevenly. The potential danger of a heart attack seemed much higher as the man stood and gaped at the man who was meant to be a mute and who had just spoken to him.

Shiori could have kissed Suga for so many things in that moment, but getting the Councilman to shut up was possibly first on the list.

…

"That was amazing, manager! Who knew you had it in you?"

Suga almost stumbled back from the exuberant greeting as they turned the corner. Sakuma was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing with energy. It almost looked as though she were fighting back the urge to hug him, which was an odd and unfamiliar sight.

"I did."

Suga looked over at Mochizuki-kun, who in his own way looked just as proud of him as Sakuma. When he chanced to look at Shii-chan, he saw that the expression was universal, and felt his cheeks and ears heat up immediately.

"And Onee-chan!" Sakuma swept past him to bounce in front of Shii-chan, a puppy in a kimono. Mochizuki-kun, still smiling at him, gave his arm a brotherly kind of squeeze. Suga appreciated the calmer show of happiness, as opposed to the energetic outpouring that Shii-chan was receiving.

"… never seen him look so angry before, and when you said that you were better qualified than _he_ was, I thought he was going to _die_ …"

Shii-chan was smiling, but looked at a bit of a loss as to what to say or how to react to all of this admiration. Suga found himself smiling as well, but was glad when Mochizuki-kun decided to step forward and take the girl's elbow, tugging her out of Shii-chan's personal space. "Alright, alright," he said, amusement tingeing his voice. "I don't know about you, kid, but I'm starving. How's about we see what kind of breakfast we can put together?"

Sakuma allowed herself to be towed towards the kitchen, tossing Suga a rather knowing smile, which he found confusing and not a little disturbing. "Fine, fine. So long as Manager-san isn't the one cooking. That would probably finish us all off."

"No worries, I'm pretty handy in the kitchen."

" _You_ can cook?"

Their voices grew fainter and fainter until the sense of the words was lost completely.

Suga remained where he was standing, as did Shii-chan. He knew he should be asking Shii-chan a veritable mountain of questions. There were more than a dozen all waiting to be released just behind his teeth, but something kept him from asking. The same weird awkwardness that had followed them from the back patio and into the living room was still with them now, heavy in the air and weighing Suga down until even breathing seemed like an achievement.

But he had to ask at least one - no, two of those questions waiting on his tongue. He didn't think he would be able to move at all until they were asked, and he didn't think Shiori would be moving, either. Not trusting his ability to keep every buzzing question save the two he wanted from spilling out, he pulled out his memo pad and wrote them out, where he had control.

Shii-chan took the note quietly, not commenting on the switch to the written word.

'Did you really mean what you said about the inn? What about your school?'

For a minute Shii-chan didn't reply, but stood, running her thumb over the note he had handed her. For some reason that seemed a peculiarly intimate motion, and he shifted on his feet.

When she replied, Shii-chan kept her eyes on the memo, as though speaking directly to the questions rather than to him. "I… I think I did. I mean, yes, I meant every word. I just… didn't think it through first. But I think it will work out. It will take some time to fix the place up and to set it up properly as an inn… In the meantime I can keep going to school, change my major to business management or something so I _will_ be qualified to run the place. I think… I think I can make it work." The memo in her hand crinkled slightly as she tightened her grip on the slip of paper. "I… I don't want to leave this place. Not again."

She took a deep, shaky breath and looked up at Suga. She smiled shyly. "It would be a lot easier with some help, though. Would you be willing to stay and help me, Suga-kun?"

Suga became very aware of the rain, beating against roof and pane, fighting to get inside and soak everything in its cold, clinging damp. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but it had been some time since he had noticed that the rain was all on the _outside_. He was shielded, dry, and warm.

Without direction from his thoughts, his hand sought out Shii-chan's. Her palm was small and soft, warm and strong as she gripped his fingers like she would never let go.

He opened his eyes and smiled at Shiori, his friend and most precious something, feeling the prickles of tears at his eyes.

"Always, Shii-chan."

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _So, definitely some head canons going on, here. So far as I am aware the Kanzaki family had nothing to do with what originally happened to the Kotori Obake, but it makes a lot of sense to me that they would._

 _I may or may not ever get around to writing more fics in this universe (I_ _ **really**_ _want to, but my time and energy is in seriously short supply) but I totally see Sakuma getting the full training from Suga and then going off to become a paranormal investigator,_ _Ghost Hunt_ _style._

 _One last chapter to go, everyone, and it's the epilogue. See you all next week!_


	15. Part XV

_**A/N:**_ _This is it, my friends. The very last chapter of this crazy little ride. When I first began this over a year ago there was so very little fanfiction for_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain_ _that I was actually able to read it all in a few hours. This is such an awesome little game, (and manga and light novel series and drama CD!), that it deserves a lot more attention than that. My contribution officially classifies as a novel, and I'm hoping it makes the fandom happy. :)_

 _ **Historian's Note:**_ _This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'_

 _ **Soundtrack:**_ _'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks_

 _ **Betas:**_ _SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own_ _Forest of Drizzling Rain ,_ _nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story._

…

A Memory of Rain

Epilogue

…

 _Many years later._

.

The bus ride from the train into the village was reasonably quiet, as bus rides went. Having grown up in the city, Tsuna was used to a lot of noise when commuting. Chatter, laughter, loud one-sided conversations being held on cell phones, music from handheld game systems or boom boxes; there was next to none of that here. His fellow passengers all appeared far more interested in the views outside their windows.

He had to admit, the scenery was beautiful. Mountains and forests, all much closer than he was accustomed to, occasionally broken up by a small farm or two. This was a province that hadn't received all that much in the way of modern development, and this particular corner had received even less. In a country that sometimes seemed packed from coast to coast with people and paved streets, this area had retained its wild beauty, unfettered by concrete. The few buildings and homes they passed were rustic, made of wood, thatch and paper. It was like stepping back in time.

The bus jostled as it hit a deep pothole in the road. One or two children on the bus squeaked in surprise. Tsuna barely kept from braining himself against the window.

Of course, so much rustic beauty came at the price of rustic conditions. He glanced over at his companion, who was still gazing out with rapt admiration.

"Nagisa, are you _sure_ this was where you wanted to spend our time?"

She blinked and smiled at him. "Of course I'm sure. The marquis on the bus said 'Azakawa Village,' and I doubt there are many of those around here." Her smile widened, making the corners of her eyes crinkle. "In fact there's not much of anything around here."

Tsuna couldn't help but smile back, but he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. "That's exactly what I mean. Do you really want to vacation _here_ of all places? It's pretty, but it looks like it won't be at all lavish." He glanced out his window again, taking in the dusty road, the sometimes ramshackle homes the bus drove past. "This isn't exactly what I had imagined for our honeymoon."

A hand on his made him look back at his new wife, who was smiling more gently now. "And what did you have in mind for our honeymoon, Tsu-kun?"

"You know what I really wanted," he said with a shrug, warmed and embarrassed by the use of his nickname where others could hear. "A nice long trip to Hawaii. Spend some time on the beach, go hiking in the mountains, maybe see a volcano… Wear grass skirts and eat a boar roasted over an open fire. Start our married life with some adventure."

"And a little bit of the ridiculous," Nagisa pointed out with amusement.

"The best kind of beginning to anything, wouldn't you say?"

Nagisa smiled and shook her head. "It does sound wonderful, but there's no way we could afford that kind of trip."

"My father did offer…"

"No-o." Nagisa's smile disappeared and was traded for a stern look. "One thing we do not need to begin our new life with is debt, not even to family."

Tsuna sighed, and squeezed Nagisa's hand. "Yes, I know. Maybe another year, the second honeymoon?"

The suggestion was met with a nod, and Tsuna filed that away for later. If all went well they could take that second honeymoon within a few years. He would have everything ready and planned for when the time came. In the meantime…

"But why here?" He insisted. "Hawaii is out for now, but surely there were places we could afford more interesting than this."

The smile returned, brighter than ever. "It came very highly recommended by my sister, who spent some time here. She even gave the recommendation for the inn we'll be staying at."

"Well, I suppose that means we can expect good accommodations, at least," Tsuna said ruefully as the bus jounced over more potholes. "What is it called?"

Nagisa had to dig through her purse to find a slip of paper with the name written on it. "The Azakawa Heritage Ryokan. Rin really enjoyed her stay there. Apparently it's run by an old college friend of hers. They were roommates for awhile, until Rin graduated."

"Ah. Does that mean we're eligible for the family and friends discount?"

Nagisa rolled her eyes at him. "I doubt it."

"Alright, so other than being run by an old friend, what makes the place so special?"

She hesitated a minute, tucking the note back safely into her purse. "She said it was a beautiful inn, and it takes the 'heritage' part of its name very seriously. Apparently the building used to be a local museum, and when they converted to a ryokan they kept all of the artifacts and displays, and now they're integrated into the building as decoration and points of interest. Rin wouldn't say exactly what some of it was. She said you had to see it for yourself to really appreciate it."

Tsuna frowned. "So the greatest draw this place has, as a honeymoon spot, is that it will act as a history lesson?"

Nagisa shrugged. "Rin also made it sound like there was something extra that the ryokan did for guests who were interested, but again wouldn't say what exactly." Her smile came back to brighten her face. She motioned out the window, indicating the mountain that grew as they crept closer and closer to its foot. "Besides, it _is_ pretty out here. It may not be fancy, but who needs fancy? We can enjoy anything together, right?"

He nodded, giving in. It wasn't worth beginning their honeymoon on a sour note to persist in the matter. But he _did_ privately hope that there would be more to this place than trees.

…

When they reached their destination, Tsuna had to admit that the approach to the ryokan was impressive. It was obvious that it had not begun its life as a ryokan, and had undergone some renovations to look as it did now. The central mass of the building still showed some signs of western influence, but it was impressive all the same. Simple gardens and landscaping bordered the short walk to the front door, as did a few _tōrō_ lanterns. As they passed by one of these, Tsuna paused and took a closer look. Rather than having anything to light at night, the inside was filled with what looked like crystals, but which were emitting a soft, blue light.

He called Nagisa back and pointed the oddity out. She looked startled.

"Kind of a weird detail," he commented. "Think this is one of those things Rin thought we had to see instead of be told about?"

Nagisa shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose it could be. It seems a little wasteful, though, to have lights like this switched on during the day."

Inside they were met by a young woman. She wore a traditional kimono and obi, and her dark hair was piled up atop her head and held in place with long pins. She smiled a welcome as they came in and bowed. "Welcome to the Azakawa Heritage Ryokan. May your stay be a pleasant one." As she straightened Tsuna noticed that the pins in her hair were fashioned to look like flower blossoms on long stems, and it looked like they were made of the same crystal as was in the _tōrō_ lanterns. She introduced herself as Sakuma Miyako and began the process of signing them in.

Reminded by the girl's pins, Tsuna cleared his throat once they were registered. "I don't know if you are aware, but the lanterns outside are on."

Sakuma looked blank for a moment, her smile questioning. "I'm sorry?"

"The lanterns." He pointed back outside the door as explanation. "They're glowing even though it's light out. You might want to switch them off."

"Oh, I see." She nodded. "I'm afraid we can't turn those off. They're not electric, you see."

"Really?" Nagisa piped up. "Then… how are they glowing?"

The girl's eyes shone at the question. Either this was a wind up to something the ryokan offered at an extra fee, or it was something she personally felt passionate about. "As to the 'how' no one is really sure, and there have been several geologists who have tried to figure it out. But you see," she reached up to her head, and somehow without disturbing her hair, removed one of the pins. "The stone glows without any aid of electricity."

And indeed, the hairpin she held out for them to inspect was made out of a white-blue crystal, its delicate length casting a gentle glow in her cupped hands.

They stared in fascination. Tsuna wanted to pick it up out of the receptionist's hands and examine it, but restrained himself. When the girl began to speak again it was in a very soft voice, making them both of them lean closer unconsciously.

"It's called the night glowstone, and thus far can only be found here, in our mountains. Many mysterious properties are attributed to this stone, and it had played a vital role in the history of our village."

"What sort of mysterious properties?" Without realizing it, Tsuna matched the girl's soft tone. The subtle facets of the hairpin were mesmerizing. It felt like being pulled out to sea by a gentle tide.

"The purification of evil spirits, and wards against the same. Some say that in skilled hands the stone is even capable of altering memory." The hairpin turned in the girl's hands, catching the light and shattering it to fragments. "Only a handful of people have ever been allowed the honor of working with this extraordinary stone, all of them residents of Azakawa, and so accessories such as this are scarce."

"And you're wearing some of it in your hair?"

Nagisa's question broke the spell the pin had on him, and he looked up in time to see Sakuma smile. Leaning in so close to catch her words, he noticed a thin, straight scar marring the girl's right cheek. He wondered where it came from. "You'll find quite a few glowstone artifacts and accessories during your stay here. The majority of those honored few who could work the stone were of the Kanzaki line. Before becoming a ryokan, this building was a museum, and before that it was the home of the Kanzaki family for generations." Her smile widened. "The owners and managers of this ryokan are Koutarou Suga and Shiori, who was Kanzaki before her marriage. They are the last of those fully trained to work with glowstone, and have only one apprentice."

"Their child?" Tsuna guessed.

Sakuma shook her head. "No, they are both still too young. _I_ am their apprentice."

Tsuna stared, and Nagisa glanced back down at the hairpin. "Does that mean that _you_ made this?"

The girl nodded, looking very proud of herself. Tsuna could understand why. If this was the level of skill she had as an apprentice, then who knew what could be expected once she graduated?

"So how did the glowstone play a part in the village's history?" Tsuna asked as the pin was stabbed back into her hair.

"Ah, as to that, you will find in your room a book that outlines some of the more interesting points of Azakawa's past, including the glowstone, the Kanzaki family, and how they both played their roles. If you have any more questions after reading, I, the managers or any of the staff will be happy to answer them for you. Which reminds me…" she slipped a small pamphlet onto the counter. "Would you be interested in taking one of our spirit tours?"

…

They were a week into their two week honeymoon, and Tsuna was willing to say now that Nagisa's sister had made a good recommendation. If he had known that this village was setting itself up as one of the most haunted locations in Japan, he would have been a lot less grumpy on the journey.

Tsuna loved anything to do with the supernatural, and this place practically oozed with it: Ghosts and ogres and missing kids, and even a hereditary village hero, the 'Ogami-san' to protect the village from the spirits in the forest. He found it a little amusing that Sakuma, the receptionist, was supposedly training to become the next Ogami-san, though the title for all practicalities seemed to be a title only nowadays.

But it was interesting, especially that the continuity of those in the legends and myths that were posted up around the ryokan had continued unbroken to the present day. Certainly Sakuma and the managers, the Koutarou couple bought into it completely, and sold it just as whole heartedly. Tsuna and Nagisa had read the book they had been provided from start to finish and had followed up with several questions that evening at dinner. It was then they met their hosts, who had been more than willing to share even more detailed tales. Shiori had done the majority of the talking, though on some points her husband Suga was more knowledgeable and took over. It always seemed to be on the especially creepy parts when he was the one telling the tales, which were only heightened by his own creepy demeanor. Tsuna meant no offense, but the guy gave him the shivers. Maybe it was the eyes.

Nagisa thought he was sweet looking, which Tsuna didn't understand at all, and might have felt a twinge of jealousy over if it weren't so obvious how completely committed the man was to his wife. _That_ was sweet, to see two people so dedicated and in love. It was almost like they were still on their own honeymoon, though the two children they had said otherwise.

Tsuna smiled at the thought of the kids. He would have thought having a couple of children running around would put a huge dampener on their honeymoon, but the Koutarou children were remarkably quiet. Keiichi, the boy and older of the two, was a little louder than his sister Kaoru, but Kaoru was so silent she could practically blend in with the wallpaper. They were well behaved for children aged four and three, and both good little monsters when the occasion called for it.

He and Nagisa had taken the spirit tour, along with a handful of other guests. The first part of the tour was of the ryokan itself, where they were shown the collection of artifacts pertaining to spirit activity. There had been a lot of old glowstone accessories once worn by the children of Azakawa to protect them from the local evil spirit, the Kotori Obake, and a more in depth telling of the legends. Then they had been led outside, behind the ryokan and into the woods.

It had been early evening rather than night when they went out, but once beneath the trees the darkness was suddenly much deeper and closer than before. They were each equipped with a small flashlight, instructed to keep close together, and followed Koutarou Suga into the woods as his wife brought up the rear, making sure no one strayed. Tsuna was fairly certain he wasn't the only one alarmed when he saw their host was not only carrying a lantern that glowed blue with stones, but also had a long katana at his hip. He was only mildly reassured when they were shown that it was also made of night glowstone, though Nagisa had gasped in appreciation of the craftsmanship. When asked, Suga-san admitted to crafting the blade himself. Tsuna had asked, quietly so Suga-san wouldn't hear, if he actually knew how to _use_ the sword. Shiori-san had smiled at his question and told him yes, he was very good at _battō-jutsu_ , and practiced every morning.

As they had walked deeper into the woods, Suga-san pointed out landmarks, explaining their significance. They passed huge boulders of night glowstone, some shining, some gone dark, their supposed spiritual power completely drained. They went to a lake in the forest that had probably once been very pretty, with large cherry trees around it and a little dock. This, Suga-san said, had been where the woman who became the Kotori Obake had committed suicide, dooming herself to becoming an evil spirit. From there they had been taken to the caves, which were blacker than pitch and echoed their every step. There they were told the gruesome history of Azakawa's ancient justice system, which had been brutal to say the least. Even Tsuna had felt the shivers crawl up his spine as he listened to the details of the Kotori Obake's life before death.

And then Keiichi and Kaoru, led by Sakuma, had stepped out of the shadows. The children had been dressed to resemble spirits that had perished in the cave prison or at the hands of the Kotori Obake, while Sakuma had been the Kotori Obake herself.

It had been a good evening in Tsuna's book. And the appearance of the children had explained why it wasn't a midnight tour.

Really, the whole trip had been good. The ryokan was a nice place to stay. It was quiet, the sense of history worked into every hall was oddly comforting, the surroundings were beautiful… even the food was good. There might not be much to see, but he thought the peace of mind achieved over a single week more than made up for it.

Tsuna sighed with contentment, drinking the tea provided by the ryokan. He had no idea what it was, but it tasted nice and warmed him to his toes. It was drizzling very lightly today, and it was pleasant to just stand out on their little private porch, looking out over the ryokan's back garden and listen.

Behind him he heard Nagisa step through the door. When she came into view she was also holding a cup of tea. "Do you know," she said eventually. "I don't think I will ever get over how pretty those flowers are."

Tsuna nodded, knowing which ones she meant.

"I wish the night glowstone weren't so rare," she sighed. "I would love to take them home with us, have a little bowl of glowing flowers forever."

"Yeah."

Silence went on between them for some time before Nagisa stirred again. "I got to talking with Sakuma last night. I was curious with all these ghost legends around why they weren't more concerned about taking Keiichi and Kaoru into the forest and thought she would know."

Tsuna nodded. Sakuma was an encyclopedia of local history, rivaling the managers in the depth of her knowledge.

"At first she just said that everyone was careful and always wore a bit of glowstone like in the old days, but I could tell there was more, so I kept on her."

"Yeah?" He looked over at her. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, but she looked as beautiful as she ever did. He smiled. "What did you get out of her?"

Nagisa brushed hair out of her face. "A whole new part of the story, actually. One they don't tell to everyone."

"Ooh, tell, tell."

She settled herself against the railing. "Well, we were all told about the Azakawa prison system, and how a man who wanted this one woman falsely accused her husband so she would end up inside where he could reach her. That's how the Kotori Obake was first created."

"Yeah…"

"According to Sakuma-chan, that man was a Kanzaki, and the very first Ogami-san was also a Kanzaki, possibly even the son of the first."

Tsuna's eyebrows rose to his hair. "Yikes. But what does that have to do with…?"

"I'm getting to that. Many, many generations later, maybe only a generation back, the Kotori Obake made a promise with one of the Kanzaki children. She was saved from the spirit by a friend of hers, who sacrificed his voice so she wouldn't be taken until much later. To _keep_ her safe, her memories were repressed and she moved far away. Her friend stayed here and became the Ogami-san to keep her safe. Years later she came back, looking for members of her family, and found her friend instead. She didn't remember him, but he remembered her, and tried to make her leave. She didn't, and somehow she got her memories back and was caught by the Kotori Obake before she could leave. Her friend rescued her again, and the two of them purified the spirit." She shrugged. "And that's why they don't worry about the kids. The Kotori Obake has already been purified."

Tsuna thought for a minute. "Seems a little anticlimactic to me."

"Sakuma-chan told it better. Besides," she raised an eyebrow at him, "I think it's romantic."

He chuckled. "Of course you do, honey." He leaned forward and kissed her.

…

At the end of two weeks, Tsuna and Nagisa were ready to leave the ryokan. They'd said their goodbyes to the managers and their kids and to Sakuma, and were just heading out the door and down the stairs when Nagisa stopped and made Tsuna come back to look at something carved into one of the porch posts.

It was an _ai-ai gasa_ , a simple umbrella with two names written beneath its canopy:

Suga-kun and Shii-chan.

…

 _ **A/N2:**_ _Complete and utter fluff for your epilogue, my friends. I have it in mind that since it's summer (or thereabouts) that Sakuma is helping out at the ryokan until her college classes pick up again. And of_ _ **course**_ _Suga carves flowers out of glowstone._

 **Battō-jutsu:** _A sword art practiced for practicality rather than sport or spiritual purposes._

 **Ai-ai gasa:** _Literally translated it means 'love love umbrella,' and is as simple as it sounds. The North American equivalent is the tradition of carving or writing the initials of two sweethearts inside a simple heart outline. I just love how this particular tradition includes an umbrella. :)_

 _Alright, everyone. That's it. We're all done._

 _ **Thank you for reading, and if you haven't yet, go play the game!**_


End file.
